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/ 



ESAU; 


OR, 

THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 



T. a/ BLAND, 

Author of Farming Asa Profession f ^^Life of B. F. Butler 
** Feign of Monopoly f ^^How to Grow Rich,'' 

Etc., Etc. 

3 ^" 


-V y iy V X 


WASHINGTON, D. C.t 

Published by the Author. 




1892. 


Copyright, 1892, by T. A. Bland, 

ALL BIGHTS BBSEBYBD. 


Press of Rufus H. Darby, Washin^on. 


TO THOSE 

WHO HAVE TOILED THROUGH THE LONG NIGHT, AND ARB HOPE- 
FULLY WAITING FOR THE MORNING, THIS 
STORY IS INSCRIBED BY 


THE AUTHOR. 


coisTTEirrs. 


Chapteb. Page. 

I. The Two Brothers 7 

II. The Call to Arms 9 

III. Jacob’s Covenant with Esau 12 

lY. Grim-visaged War 16 

Y. Home on Furlough 20 

YI. Ways and Means 25 

YII. A Corn Husking 35 

YIII. Esau’s Dream 40 

IX. Esther Janney’s Adventure 51 

X. The Rescue 59 

XI. A Prisoner Among his Friends the Enemy 66 

XII. Adventures of a Contraband 70 

XIII. Esau Lindley at Gettysburg 81 

XIY. The Mortgage Matures 83 

XY. The Fate of Esau 89 

XYI. Lindley vs. Lindley 93 

XYII. The Blue and the Gray 98 


PKEFACE. 


The story of Esau is not a fiction ; every important 
statement in it is founded on fact, and the book as a 
whole is true to life. The author has availed himself 
of the usual privilege of authors in dealing with names 
of persons and places ; but Indiana veterans will recog- 
nize in the story of Esau a true history of the career 
and fate of one of the bravest and most patriotic men 
who responded to the call for volunteer soldiers in 
April, 1861. That this book has been written with a 
purpose is apparent to even the casual reader ; that it 
may achieve the purpose for which it was written and 
thus aid in some measure in bringing in the era of 
justice, is the earnest hope of 

The Author. 

Washington^ D. C., May 1, 1892. 



ESAU; 

OE, THE BAHKEE’S VICTIM. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE TWO BROTHERS. 

Esau and J acob Lindley were brothers, only sons of a 
moderately well-to-do farmer of Southern Indiana. They 
were thirty and twenty-eight years of age, respectively, 
when the war of the Rebellion began, in 1861. They 
were both Republicans in politics and Presbyterians in 
religion. 

Esau had a wife and three children, a son and two 
daughters. Jacob had a wife and one child, a son. 
They were both temperate, industrious and every way 
respectable citizens. But Jacob was much more thrifty 
and prosperous than his brother Esau. They had jointly 
inherited from their parents the home farm of 120 acres, 
seven years before the war. The farm was valued at 
two thousand dollars. Jacob had been employed as a 
salesman in a village store for two years, and had 
acquired some knowledge of the mercantile business. 
Esau had remained on the farm. The farm was not 
thought to be large enough for two families, and Jacob 
proposed to sell his interest in it to Esau for $1,000, 
payable in ten yearly payments of $100 each, and in- 
terest at the rate of 10 per cent per annum on deferred 
payments. The first payment to be one-tenth of the 
debt, $100, and interest on the whole for one year, $100, 
total $200 to be paid at the end of the first year. The 
second payment would be $190 ; the third, $180 ; th« 
fourth, $170; the fifth, $160; the sixth, $150; the 
seventh, $140 ; the eight, $130 ; the ninth, $120, and the 
tenth and last, $110. Total, $1,570, payments to be in 


8 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

gold or silver. Esau was to give Jacob a mortgage on 
the farm to secure the payments, and in case of failure 
to make each of the payments as they fell due the 
whole would become due, and the farm could be sold 
under a foreclosure of the mortgage. 

Esau doubted his ability to meet such large payments, 
and proposed a division of the farm. ‘‘ I should like it 
all,” he said, ‘‘but the half is better than none.” 

Jacob, having been offered an interest in his employ- 
er’s store on easy terms, was very anxious to close the 
trade with his brother. 

Esau and his wife, Clara, held long consultations over 
the proposed purchase, and finally declined Jacob’s 
offer. 

After consultation with his employer, Jacob submit- 
ted the following proposal : Esau to give his note for 
$1,000, due in ten years with interest at 10 per cent, 
payable yearly ; interest and principal payable in gold 
or silver, a mortgage on the farm to be given to secure 
the final payment. 

With some hesitation and after considerable urging 
on the part of Jacob, Esau accepted this offer. Jacob 
at once bought a half interest in his employer’s business 
for $1,000, payable in ten yearly installments. He de- 
posited his brother’s note and mortgage as collateral 
security. At the end of six years Esau had paid Jacob 
$600 in interest, which with the profits of his business 
had enabled him to take up the note for $1,000 which 
he had given for a half interest in the store, and to pay 
$1,000 on a home for himself and family. Esau had 
barely been able to pay the interest on his mortgage 
note and support his family. 

This was the situation of the two brothers in April, 
1861. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE CALL TO ARMS. 

The morning of April 12th dawned brightly, as other 
mornings had dawned, but before — 

“ Daylight let her curtain down, 

And pinned it with a star,"* 

on that memorable day, the blackest drama in modern 
history had been opened. Fort Sumpter had been fired 
upon. The war of secession had begun. 

The news fiew on lightning wings and the whole Na- 
tion was aroused as it was never aroused before. The 
Southrons felt that now the Rubicon had been crossed, 
and pride and patriotism alike demanded that they 
stand by the right of secession, cost what it would in 
blood and treasure. And the people of the North were 
as determined to defend the Union and crush the trea- 
son that dared threaten its perpetuity. 

Sumpter fell, and with the news of that event there 
fiashed over the wires the proclamation of President 
Lincoln calling upon the loyal men of the Nation to 
leave their farms and factories, their stores and shops, 
and rally to the defense of the Union. Seventy-five 
thousand men were called for. The quota of Indiana 
was six regiments, and her quota was filled at once. 

Esau Lindley had felt deeply impressed with the grav- 
ity of the situation, and when the call to arms came he 
was among the first to respond. 

Captain Rosser, a veteran of the Mexican war, called 
a meeting to consider the situation and raise a company 
of volunteer infantry. 

The Court-house Square in the village of B was 

crowded with men, young and old. Jack Howard and 
Sam Adams were there with their fife and drum, and 
as the old fiag was unfurled to the breeze they greet- 


10 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

ed it with that soul-stirring air “The Star Spangled 
Banner.” 

Cheer after cheer went up, and as the echoes died 
away Captain Rosser emerged from the court-house 
door and paused upon the upper step. He was in full 
captain’s uniform and in his right hand he held the 
sword he had carried through the war with Mexico. 
His appearance was greeted with cheers and cries of 
‘‘A speech, a speech ! ” 

Bowing the head in acknowledgment of the compli- 
ment, this gallant hero spoke as follows : 

“ Fellow citizens, a crisis in the history of our coun- 
try is upon us. The liberty for which our Fathers 
fought is imperiled. The Union, cemented with their 
patriot blood, is threatened. The flag that symbolizes 
all that is glorious in our history and all that is grand 
in our institutions has been trailed in the dust by traitor 
hands. Our chosen Chief Magistrate, our Patriot Pres- 
ident, calls upon us to defend the old flag, and crush 
the treason that would dishonor it. 

“What answer do I hear from you, my neighbors? 
What answer from you, my fellow soldiers of the Mexi- 
can war ? What answer do I hear from the sons of my 
veteran comrades ? Aye, there can be but one answer 
from the patriot sons of our noble State to this call to 
arms in a cause so holy. It were enough that the flag 
of the free, the starry emblem of our glorious Union, 
has been fired upon and trailed in the dust by order of 
Jefferson Davis. But we sons of Indiana have not for- 
gotten Buena Vista, but into our memory is burned the 
vile libel that Jeff Davis uttered against the courage of 
an Indiana regiment which had the misfortune to be in 
his brigade in that bloody battle. Time always brings 
her revenges to those who suffer from injustice. The 
time has arrived for Indiana to wipe out this stain upon 
her fair fame, while defending the honor of the Nation 
and the perpetuity of the Union. But the time for talk 
has passed. The time for action has come. I am 
ready to respond to this call for soldiers. There is my 
name on that muster roll,” pointing to a paper which 
he drew from his pocket and unrolled. “ Who will be 
the next to sign it ? ” 


THE CALL TO ARMS. 


11 


« I will ! ” came in chorus from an hundred throats, 
and in less than half an hour the roster was full. Thir- 
ty-six hours after Captain Rosser marched his company 
into Camp Morton and was assigned to the th regi- 

ment. 


CHAPTER III. 

Jacob's covenant with esau. 

Esau Lindley called at once at his brother's store and 
said to him : 

‘‘ Jacob, I have enlisted, and must arrange my affairs 
in short order and bid wife and children good-by for 
three months. Heaven grant it may not be forever I 
And, Jacob, I want you to promise me that you will look 
after my affairs and my family while I am gone." 

“All right, Esau, I will see that your family don't 
want for anything and that your farm is managed as 
well as it can be in your absence." 

“ Thank you, brother, and now good-by, for I must 
be off for home to tell the news to wife and little ones. 
I rather dread that job, for women are afraid of war. 
It seems dreadful to them. Clara is braver than I am 
and fully as patriotic, but I've an idea that it takes a 
higher order of courage to enable a wife to send her 
husband to the front than it does for him to go." 

“Good-by, Esau, and may you soon return covered 
with glory. But I think you are foolish to leave your 
farm and family, when there's plenty of men who have 
nothing to hold them back." 

“But, Jake, such fellows have nothing to fight for. 
They have no such stake in the country as we have." 

“There's plenty of 'em would go for the excitement 
and the pay, especially the pay." 

“ But such soldiers would not be worth much, broth- 
er. One intelligent, patriotic soldier is worth a dozen 
hirelings." 

“ But I must not stay to argue, so good-by again." 

Esau's thoughts were not the most cheerful as he rode 
home that afternoon. He had enlisted under the com- 
bined influence of a sense of duty and the enthusiasm 
of the occasion. The Captain's speech had caused him 

12 


JACOB’S COVENANT WITH ESAU. 


13 


to forget for the moment all else but the peril of the 
Union and his duty as a loyal citizen. He did not for- 
get the peril or the duty now, but he remembered the 
tender ties that must be severed. He thought of wife 
and children whom he dearly loved, and who not only 
loved him, hut depended upon him for support and pro- 
tection, for comfort and guidance. ‘‘ But brother Jake 
will look after them,” he said to himself. Yet he said 
it with a degree of doubt, of mental reservation, for he 
could not remember that Jake had ever performed a 
truly benevolent or unselfish act. But I am going to 
the war in his interest as much as in my own. Surely 
he will see it in that light and feel it a duty, aye, a priv- 
ilege, to protect and cherish my loved ones during my 
absence.” 

Thus soliloquizing, Esau rode up to his own farm- 
yard gate and, putting his horse into his stall, he 
entered his home, to which he was so soon to bid adieu. 

Supper was on the table and so, after greeting Clara 
and the children with more than usual warmth and 
affection, the father took his accustomed seat at the 
table, and soon the family were enjoying the substan- 
tial but plain meal. 

‘‘What’s the news in town, father?” asked Jennie, 
the eldest daughter, a girl of seven summers. 

“ Stirring news, my daughter. The Kebels have fired 
on the Stars and Stripes, and President Lincoln has 
called on the Union men of the country to defend the 
old fiag and crush out treason.” 

“ But you won’t go to the war, papa ? ” 

“ Oh, I hope there won’t be much war, Jennie, but I 
must not shirk my duty if there is. I am sure you 
would not want your papa to be a coward when his 
country calls upon him to defend her against foreign 
foes or traitors at home.” 

“Is it true, husband,” said the wife, “that war has 
really begun ? ” 

“Yes, wife, the Rebels have fired on Fort Sumpter. 
Major Anderson has been forced to surrender, and the 
President has called for seventy-five thousand volun- 
teer soldiers to defend the Nation’s life and crush 
rebellion in the bud. Captain Rosser raised a company 


14 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER'S VICTIM. 


to-day and I am in it. There, it's all out. But we only 
enlisted for three months, and it's not likely that it 
will take us that long to put down this little rebellion. 
The South did not believe that the North would fight 
or they would not have started the rebellion, and when 
they see their mistake they will back down right sud- 
denly." 

God grant that they may back down," responded 
the wife, ‘‘ but I fear this is to be a long and bloody 
war. I honor you for your patriotism and your cour- 
age. I would not have tried to hold you back from 
enlisting if I had been there, but it seems dreadful to 
have you go to war, and to war with our own people. 
The Southern people are not only our fellow citizens, 
but some of them are our kinfolks. But when do you 
have to leave us?" 

To-morrow evening we take the train for Indian- 
apolis, where we will go into camp with the other com- 
panies of the regiment, and receive our arms and other 
equipments." 

‘‘ So soon ! But I will not complain, though it comes 
so sudden that it seems hard to bear." 

I know it's hard for you, Clara, much harder than 
for me, and God knows it is a trial for me to leave you 
and the children for so long a time. But it's my duty 
to go and I must not shirk that duty. Brother Jake 
has promised to look after my affairs, and John Fry is 
a faithful man, so all that will be really missed on the 
farm will be my work as a hand, and my pay as a sol- 
dier will be enough to hire a hand in my place." 

The children slept, but the husband and wife, so soon 
to be separated by the cruel exigencies of civil war, 
spent the night in sweet, though solemn communings ; 
for, although they retired to their couch at midnight, 
sleep refused to fold the shadows of forgetfulness over 
their busy brains, and so they talked on till morning 
dawned. 

Breakfast over, Esau held a conference with his 
friend and hired man, John Fry, a young man of twenty- 
three who had but recently taken to himself a wife and 
begun housekeeping in a tenement on his employer's 
farm. John's father had been a tenant farmer, and 


Jacob’s covenant with esau. 


15 


John saw little hope that he could ever rise above that 
state. He had not attained to even that dignity yet, 
but he hoped to own a team and be able to take a farm 
a year later. His capital at this writing consisted 
chiefly of health, hope, industry and integrity, though 
he had a horse and cow, purchased with his own earn- 
ings. He promised fidelity to his employer’s interest 
and Esau had faith in his promise, and told him so as 
he bade him . good-by and turned to take leave of his 
wife and children. 

He pressed his babies one after the other to his bosom, 
kissing them tenderly, and then folding the wife and 
mother to his heart he pressed his trembling lips to 
hers, and with a fervent God bless and keep you all 
safe until I return ! ” he went out from his home and 
was soon lost to sight. 


CHAPTER IV. 

GRIM-VISAGED WAR. 

The ^th Indiana was hurried to the front, and 

on the 3d of June, ’61, it met the Confederate hosts at 
Philippi. This battle was followed by those of Laurel 
Hill and Carrick’s Ford in quick succession, and so 
before their term of enlistment had expired, these 
three months’ volunteers were veteran soldiers. 

The hero of our story had by this time passed 
through the fiery ordeal of battle unscathed, though 
often in deadly peril. He had become convinced that 
the Southern people, however much in error they 
might be, were in deadly earnest. They had been 
taught by their political leaders to believe that the 
Government was in league with the Abolitionists to 
set the negroes free, thus robbing them of their slave 
property, amounting to hundreds of millions of dollars, 
not only, but to compel them to live on terms of equal- 
ity with the ignorant negroes, their former slaves. 
Avarice, pride and prejudice were all appealed to, as 
well as patriotism — patriotism do I say? Since the 
palmy days of Greece no more patriotic people have 
lived than the people of the seceding Southern States 
of this Nation. They had never surrendered their pro- 
vincial pride. They were Carolinians or Virginians 
first, Americans second. Their allegiance to the States 
in which they were born was paramount to that they 
owed the Nation of which their State was a part. In- 
deed, they did not recognize the United States of 
America as a nation, but simply a confederacy of 
independent States, which had voluntarily formed a 
Union for their mutual good and from which they 
could withdraw when in their judgment the action of 
a majority of the States became oppressive to them. 

This is substantially what a Confederate prisoner 
16 


GRIM-VISAGED WAR. 


17 


said to Esau Lindley during a long talk which they 
had together. Esau had taken this Virginian captive 
during a charge his regiment had made during the 
battle of Laurel Hill, and he felt a personal interest in 
him. The two soldiers, though political foes, soon 
became personal friends. They treated each other's 
views with respect, Esau being especially considerate 
of the feelings and even prejudices of his prisoner. 
He did not hesitate, however, to defend his Union prin- 
ciples, and the action of the Government in its attempt 
to suppress the rebellion and preserve the Union. In 
reply to the argument quoted above, he said: “I ad- 
mit that, from your point of view, your argument is 
quite strong. 

“ But I think you are wrong as to the nature of the 
compact between the States, and the relations between 
the States and the Nation. It is true that originally 
the American Colonies were independent of each other. 
I admit that the compact which bound them together 
during the war of the Revolution did not bind them to 
remain confederated after the war was over and inde- 
pendence won. The preamble to the Constitution vir- 
tually admits that, in its declaration, that one of the 
chief objects of the Constitution of the United States 
of America is to form a more perfect Union between 
the States. 

“In becoming parties to that last compact by sign- 
ing that Constitution the Colonies ceased to be inde- 
pendent Colonies in a confederation, and became co- 
equal States in a nation. That the nation is superior 
to the States goes without saying. The Union was a 
mutual arrangement, voluntarily entered into, you say* 
I admit it. But I deny the right of withdrawal, except 
by mutual consent. Every State, and every citizen of 
every State, is interested in this Union, for upon its- 
perpetuity the Nation’s life depends. I do not forget 
that you deny that this is a nation. That is the only 
ground on which secession can be defended. We of the 
North hold that this is a nation, and so holding, we- 
can but regard secession as treason, and armed defense 
of it rebellion. If the South succeeds, the doctrine of 
secession will be established, the Union dissolved, and 


18 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER'S VICTIM. 

the Nation cease to exist. We ought to have settled 
this question by free discussion and a free ballot, but 
the South refused and appealed to arms. The fight is 
on, and must be continued till rebellion is crushed and 
secession is dead. Then will this be a nation with a 
higher aim.” 

The Virginian listened in silence till the Hoosier 
paused. Then he took up the argument by saying : 

“You said that the South would not listen to argu- 
ment and that it forced the fight upon the North. 
The South did argue the question of slavery until 
the whole North had become Abolitionists and had 
elected an Abolitionist President. Besides, the war 
was begun by John Brown, a Northern Abolitionist, 
two years ago. This war did not begin at Charleston, 
South Carolina, but at Harper's Ferry, Virginia.” 

“ My friend,” began our hero, “ I see that you have 
been greatly misinformed. Abraham Lincoln is not 
an Abolitionist, nor was he elected by Abolition votes. 

“ Lloyd Garrison and his disciples did not support 
him, but spurned him and spit on his platform. The 
Republican party is opposed to the extension of slavery, 
but it is not disposed to disturb that institution where 
it legally exists under the Constitution of the Nation 
and the laws of the Slave States. The Republican 
party was not responsible for John Brown's crazy 
action at Harper's Ferry, nor did it defend him in 
it ; on the contrary, the great mass of the Northern 
people. Republicans as well as Democrats, denounced 
him, and left him to his fate. The Government is 
not making war on slavery, it is trying to preserve 
the Union. “ If you are right I've been misled,” 
responded the Virginian ; “ and if I could be sure 
that you are right I’d never serve another day in 
the Confederate army.” 

At this moment picket firing on the extreme right 
announced the approach of the enemy, and the discus- 
sion was closed for that day. A few days later Esau 
Lindley reported his discussion with his prisoner to 
Captain Rosser, who at once sought an interview with 
this deluded Virginian. The Captain made such a 
clear and eloquent presentation of the case as to con- 


GRIM-VISAGED WAR. 


19 


vince him that his friend Lindley had properly stated 
the views of the Northern people and the policy of the 
administration. So he said to the Captain : “I took 
the oath of allegiance to the Southern Confederacy 
because I thought its cause was just. I find I was 
mistaken. I now want to strike out that rebel oath 
and swear allegiance to the Union. Then if youTl 
take me ITl join your company.’’ 

The Captain reported the case to Gen. M , and 

within a few hours Esau Lindley had the pleasure of 
seeing his Virginia friend doff the Confederate gray 
and don the loyal blue. 


CHAPTER V. 

HOME ON FURLOUGH. 

Esau Lindley’s term of service expired on the 15th 
day of July, and he re-enlisted for three years, as did 
all the survivors of Captain Rosser’s company. He 
got a bounty of $25, and the promise of $75 more at 
the end of his term of service, or if discharged on ac- 
count of wounds received in battle. He also got a 
furlough for three weeks to enable him to visit his 
home. He found his family in fair health, but his 
summer crops had not turned out very well, and his 
best horse had died. He had meant to anticipate the 
payment of interest on his mortgage note with his pay 
and bounty; but he was obliged to buy a horse to 
replace the one which had died, and take the risk of 
meeting the interest payment when it should fall due, 
which would be some time later. He spoke to his 
brother Jacob of the frustration of his plans, and sug- 
gested the possibility of his not being able to make 
this seventh payment of interest on time. Jacob 
treated the matter lightly, assuring Esau that he 
should not need the money and that it would not 
make any material difference whether he paid the 
$100 when due, or not, before the next spring. With 
this assurance from Jacob, Esau’s heart was set at 
rest for the present. He had been unable to provide 
for the payment of the purchase money, which would 
fall due in July, 1864, but he hoped to get the note 
renewed by his brother, or some other man who might 
have money to loan at that time. At any rate he 
would not let a matter which was then three years in 
the future trouble him now. He had enough of pres- 
ent trouble without borrowing any. 

Esau’s few brief days at home were busy days, 
though * pleasant ones. They were spent with his 

20 


HOME ON FURLOUGH. 


21 


family almost wholly, and in arranging his home 
affairs. He consulted with his wife and John Fry 
on every detail. He said to his wife on the day 
following his return home : 

My dear Clara, you are as much interested in our 
business affairs as I am ; I therefore want you to know 
all about them, and during my absence take charge of 
them. John Fry is a trusty man, but he is a hired 
man. He cannot possibly feel as much interest as you 
or I do, and besides he will probably leave us next 
spring, unless we rent him the farm. I shall therefore 
tell him that he is to consult with you in regard to all 
the affairs of the farm, and that nothing is to be done 
without your knowledge and consent.” 

Having thus prepared his wife, he called his faithful 
hired man into the council. He said : “ I want us 
three to talk over together everything pertaining to 
the farm and the interests of my family.” This was 
done and when the time came for him to bid adieu to 
his home and his family and go to the seat of war 
again, Esau Lindley felt that his business matters 
were in fairly good shape. He thought that he had 
provided for the comfort of his wife and children and 
the payment of the interest on his mortgage note at 
Christmas, if not before. He felt hopeful, and almost 
cheerful, despite the fact that he was going for three 
years to bear the hardships of camp life and face the 
perils of war. 

Mrs. Lindley bore herself bravely, as became the 
wife of a patriotic soldier. But her calm demeanor 
was assumed. Her heart was almost breaking. Be- 
side the sadness of the saddest of all partings in life, 
she felt a foreboding of evil for which she could not 
account. Her face was calm and no tears shone in 
her blue eyes, as her husband gave her the farewell 
kiss and complimented her on being so brave. But 
her cheeks were pale, and her eyes had in them a look 
of agony too deep for tears. Tears came to her relief 
soon, came like the waters of a fountain which had 
been dammed and suddenly swept all barriers before 
it. Oh, that the agonies and the tears of the women of 
America could have been seen in prophetic vision by 


22 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

the men of America who forced that war upon the 
country ; surely they would have foresworn ambition, 
abjured avarice and, putting sectional pride behind 
them, said to those who held different views of slavery 
and State rights, Come, let us reason together, let us 
find some civilized solution to the political problems 
that confront us. Let us not fall to blowing out each 
other’s brains and cutting each other’s throats, and 
breaking the hearts of our wives, and mothers, and 
sweethearts, and sisters. Let us not make of the 
whole land a graveyard, watered with woman’s tears, 
and turn the temple of Liberty into a house of mourn- 
ing. Let us not settle our differences of opinion as 
heathen savages do, but let us settle them as civilized 
Christians should. Aye, let us remember that war 
never settles anything except the question of which 
party to it is the stronger. Whoso is forced to change 
his opinion of any question does not change it at all.” 

“ Convince a man against his will, 

And he is of the same opinion still.” 

Is it not then the height of folly and the acme of 
crime to attempt to settle by war any question upon 
which men hold different opinions ? 

But no such arguments were heard. No such wise 
councils were offered, or if presented they were not 
heeded. The hour of the Nation’s madness had struck. 
The civilization that seemed about to crown this heav- 
en-favored land with the supreme victories of science 
and art, the highest honors of literature and philosophy 
and the grandest achievements of statesmanship was 
eclipsed by a black cloud of barbarism, and a storm of 
savage fury swept across the continent carrying de- 
struction and death before it, and leaving desolation 
and mourning behind. 

“ The war was inevitable,” you say. 

I admit it, and for the reason that our civilization is 
but a veneer, it is a surface affair. It has given us 
physical science, but it has not endowed us with moral 
philosophy. It has taught us the art of making 
money, but of that higher art that involves the proper 


HOME ON FURLOUGH. 23 

distribution and use of wealth we are still almost as 
ignorant as our barbarous ancestors. 

We do not live in caves and hollow trees like our 
European ancestors, nor eat raw flesh and dress in 
skins of animals, as they did ; but like them we make 
war on each other, as nations and states, and as in- 
dividuals we indulge in the passions of envy, pride, 
hate, lust, avarice. We slander, backbite, cheat, steal, 
fight and even kill. These are barbarous, not civilized 
habits. War is pre-eminently an institution of barba- 
rism. There is nothing civilized about it, nor the 
causes that lead to it. Tyranny and injustice of rulers. 
Ambition of men who desire to rule. Jealousy between 
rulers. These are among the chief causes of war. These 
all tend to barbarism. Civilization is characterized by 
mental and moral culture, by honesty, fidelity, justice, 
equality, generosity, peace. 

Slavery is a barbarous institution, and because the 
Southern States clung to that institution, after the 
Northern States had given it up, we of the North pride 
ourselves on our superior civilization. There is a touch 
of Phariseeism about this claim. The North sold its 
slaves South because in the North white wage servants 
were more profitable than black chattel slaves. It is 
true that there were a few men and women in the North 
who regarded slavery with abhorrence. In their eyes 
it was a crime against humanity. 

But the men and women who held this view of 
negro slavery were so few as to command little respect 
from the average Northerner up to the time that the 
war began. The moment that the electric flash bla- 
zoned the news throughout the North that Sumpter had 
surrendered to the hosts of secession, and the old flag 
of Freedom had been trailed in the dust before the em- 
blem of slavery, a revulsion in political sentiment set 
in, and Abolitionists increased rapidly. It was more 
than a year and a half, however, before the Kepublic 
was ripe for even a conditional emancipation proclama- 
tion. The people of the North were not anti-slavery. 
As a class, the soldiers of the Union army cared little 
about the rights or wrongs of the negro. They enlisted 
to put down rebellion and preserve the Union, not to 


24 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


free the negroes. President Lincoln said : If I can save 
the Union without destroying slavery, I will do it. But 
if it becomes necessary to destroy slavery to save the 
Union, slavery must go. The Union must and shall be 
preserved.” 

Slaverer perished by the exigencies of war, not 
through the growth of moral sentiment. It was the 
stubborn refusal of the South to remain in the Union 
on any terms, and the determined purpose of the North 
that she should not go out for any reason, that consti- 
tuted the upper and nether millstone that crushed out 
chattel slavery. 

The war destroyed that patriarchal institution, chat- 
tel slavery, but it did not nor could not kill the spirit 
of slavery. It could not destroy the barbarous, selfish 
instinct that prompts men to subordinate their fellows, 
and compel service from them. War cannot subdue 
that instinct. The growth of general intelligence and 
of civilized sentiment alone can do that. 


CHAPTER VI 

WAYS AND MEANS. 

Money is as necessary as men to the successful pros- 
ecution of war. On assuming the Executive Chair of 
the Nation, President Lincoln found an empty treas- 
ury. He first called for men to put down the Rebel- 
lion, and then he called for money to equip the men 
and meet other necessary expenses. His call for men 
was promptly responded to, as we have seen. But his 
call for money did not meet with the patriotic response 
he had a right to expect. The gold and silver coin was 
mainly in the vaults of banks in New York, Boston, 
Philadelphia and other large cities. The bankers con- 
ferred together. The conference was held behind 
closed doors. The first speaker was a venerable look- 
ing bank president from Boston, whose portly figure 
and ruddy complexion plainly proclaimed the fact of 
his high living, vigorous digestion and easy habits, 
while his elegant clothes, heavy gold watch chain and 
costly seals gave evidence of his substantial wealth. 
His manner was characterized by a dignity of so severe 
a type as to border upon hauteur. With one hand 
thrust in his pantaloons pocket, as though to protect 
his purse, and the other behind his back, his lips 
pursed out, as though a chunk of wisdom awaited 
egress, and his brow slightly contracted, giving a 
rather severe but not angry expression, this American 
Shylock stood before his brother bankers for a mo- 
ment as if in deep and ponderous thought, and then 
in measured sentences he spoke as follows : 

‘‘It is evident that the Government is in a great 
strait for funds. It is equally evident that there is but 
one source of supply. It must borrow. It is an axiom 
of business that the lender, and not the borrower, 
should dictate the terms on which a loan is to be oe- 

26 


26 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

gotiated, that is, if the lender should consider it de- 
sirable to make the loan on any terms. We are busi- 
ness men. We have money to loan. The Government 
comes to us as a borrower. As business men we must 
treat the Government precisely as we would any other 
borrower. How do we treat other borrowers ? Why, 
we inquire what their assets and liabilities are, and 
such other facts as bear on the question of whether or 
not they will be able to pay. If there is no doubt on 
that score, we let them have our money on liberal 
terms. But, if there is doubt of their being able to 
pay, we refuse to discount their paper, or we make the 
rates high enough to cover the risk as well as the dis- 
count. Now, gentlemen, the Government is insolvent. 
The public revenue is not sufficient to meet the ordi- 
nary public expenses. How then is ib to meet the ex- 
traordinary expense of a gigantic civil war ? I fear it 
cannot do it. With these facts before me, I shall not 
invest a dollar of coin in Government bonds. Yet, it 
will not do, gentlemen, for us to refuse outright to 
heed this appeal from our Government. Patriotism 
and business policy alike forbid that we turn deaf ears 
to this call for funds to put down the rebellion. What 
shall be our policy then ? I answer, we will lend our 
currency to the Government at fair rate, say twelve per 
cent discount on the bonds, and six per cent annual 
interest. This, gentlemen, is the best terms on which 
my bank will take any part of the Government loan.’’ 
The patriotic and eloquent banker resumed his seat, 
and a New York bank president arose to address the 
House : 

Gentlemen, fellow-bankers, I am sure that I voice 
the sentiment of this entire conference in saying, as I do, 
that the speech to which we have just had the pleasure 
of listening was replete with financial wisdom. It is 
common sense in the concrete. I, therefore, move that 
this association appoint a committee to formulate a 
policy in accordance with the gentleman’s speech, and 
that we hereby agree to abide by that policy.” 

The resolution was adopted, and after the appointment 
of the committee the conference adjourned. Immedi- 
ately thereafter Government six per cent bonds were 


WAYS AND MEANS. 


27 


quoted in Wall Street, New York ; State Street, Boston; 
and Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, at eighty-eight cents 
on the dollar. 

If the call of the President for men had been treated 
as his call for money was treated, would not a draft 
have been ordered ? Why, then, did not the patriotic 
and humane Lincoln make a draft on the hankers and 
other moneyed men of the country for funds to meet 
the cost of the war ? Is money more sacred than human 
life ? It would seem that it was so regarded by the 
Government during the war. It has been so regarded 
up to the present day. Prof. Richard T. Ely, of Johns 
Hopkins University, in an essay on ‘‘Person and Prop- 
erty,’’ says : 

“The spirit of our law is pagan, and not Christian, 
because it tends to put property above person, and thus 
exalt what God intended to be a mere means above 
the end to which the means should minister — dead 
matter above a living soul.” 

“ ’Tis true, and pity ’tis, 'tis true.’* 

The total sum offered by the banks, even at the 
ruinous rates charged by them, was much less than 
was needed, and Congress was called upon to provide 
means for meeting the public expenses. 

Congress met in special session July 4, 1861. Presi- 
dent Lincoln told that body of sages that he was about 
at his wits’ end. “ Of silver and gold the treasury has 
none, and the banks refuse to lend me any,” he said. 
“ Secretary Chase asks permission to coin the credit of 
the Government into money to buy food for the sol- 
diers and pay them. I don’t see what else we can do, 
so I recommend you to let him try his plan.” 

Congress gave the Secretary permission to issue 
$250,000,000 of treasury notes that bore 7 3-10 per 
cent a year, and $50,000,000 that bore no interest. 
The notes that bore no interest proved the better 
money of the two, for they went into circulation just 
as readily as the others, and they continued to circu- 
late. But the 7-30 interest-bearing notes were con- 
stantly getting into the hands of bankers and others 
who would hold them for the sake of the interest. 


28 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

The two sorts of Government money saved the Union 
during that terrible summer and fall of ’61. 

The President and Secretary appreciated the virtues 
of the greenback so highly that they asked Congress 
for more of them. The bankers had also observed the 
good work of the greenbacks ; but instead of appreci- 
ating it they became alarmed at it. They held a coun- 
cil to consider what to do about it. Like the council 
already reported this was held behind closed doors. 
How the author got a report of the speeches is his 
secret. It was the largest bankers’ meeting ever held 
in this country up to that time, and the question to 
consider which they had convened was the gravest 
question that was ever considered by a conclave of 
bankers. But we will let the reader hear them and 
then judge of the gravity of the question. 

President Bullion, of Boston, was chosen to preside 
over the conference. On accepting the position, he 
said : 

‘‘Gentlemen of the conference, I thank you for the 
honor you have conferred upon me in selecting me to 
preside over this august body; for it is an august body. 
I see before me the real rulers of the country, repre- 
sentatives of the class of men who constitute the power 
behind the throne in every civilized country on the 
globe. Since civilization dawned the men of money, 
the financiers, have held the destiny of nations in 
their hands, kings have bowed before them, and 
nations have paid tribute to them; empires have 
arisen and fiourished under their smile and perished 
before their frown. 

“Napoleon was victorious while he courted their 
power, but when he listened to the heresies of Cou- 
vier the mighty money power became the ally of 
Britain, and Napoleon was dethroned and sent into 
exile. The reign of the money kings was threatened 
by those three infidels of the Bevolutionary period, 
Franklin, Paine and Jefferson. But that great finan- 
cier, Alexander Hamilton', stood so firmly by the old 
monetary system that Franklin’s fiat paper money 
idea was swept aside, and Jefferson’s opposition to the 


WAYS AND MEANS. 


29 


National bank scheme was of no avail when Washing- 
ton threw his great influence in its favor. 

‘‘Time would fail me were I to speak at length of 
the financial heresies of Jackson and Calhoun. But 
I cannot omit to note the similarity of the system of 
finance which they proposed, and the one which is 
now being urged upon Congress. They advocated the 
use of treasury notes instead of bank notes ; they used 
the specious and most dangerous argument, that the 
credit of the nation is a broader and every way better 
basis for paper money than the credit of a bank cor- 
poration, and that the value of money should be con- 
trolled by Congress, and not by bankers. These twin 
heresies, gentlemen, are now, as never before, threat- 
ening the stability, aye, the existence of the monetary 
system we represent. Once the American people come 
to see that the Government can do its own banking ; 
that a treasury note is as good as a bank note, and 
even better, being equal to coin without redemption if 
made a full, legal tender ; let this become obvious ta 
the people and our reign is over, our occupation gone, 
our power to tax the business of the country ended. 

“ Gentlemen, I am not an alarmist, I speak the words 
of soberness when I say to you that we stand face to 
face with the greatest danger that our craft ever en- 
countered. The issue must be met. That treasury- 
note scheme must he defeated at any cost. 

“Fortunately for us. Congress is composed chiefly of 
lawyers, a class of men who know but little of political 
economy and finance, and who are accustomed to seeing 
but one side of a case, and that the side on which they 
have been retained. I am sure, gentlemen, you see my 
point. 

“Another circumstance in our favor is, that the ofii- 
cers of the Government, the editors of papers, the pro- 
fessors of political economy, the business men of the 
country and the people at large look upon us as the 
chief repositories of financial wisdom. We ought, 
therefore, to be able to crush this plot of the Secretary 
to overthrow our power; not only, but to secure instead 
the adoption of a system of finance that shall increase 
our powers and profits beyond all precedent. 


30 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

‘‘Thanking you for the patience with which you have 
listened to my long and rather prosy speech, I await 
such suggestions as the members of this large and able 
body may have to present.” 

As President Bullion resumed his seat, President Gold- 
bug, of New York, rose and addressed the conference. 
He said : 

“ I am deeply impressed by the able presentation of 
the facts of history to which we have listened. I 
am still more deeply impressed with the clear state- 
ment by the gentleman of the peril that threatens the 
financial interests of this country. Gentlemen, the finan- 
cial wisdom and the monetary interests of this coun- 
try are represented by this body of bankers. What do 
the people know about finance ? They know what we 
think it proper they should know. We, gentlemen, are 
the proper guardians of the monetary interests of the 
United States. We are the natural advisers of the 
Secretary of the Treasury and of Congress. I, there- 
fore, move that a committee from the membership of 
this body be sent to Washington for the purpose of de- 
feating the present bill, and of presenting and pushing 
to its passage a bill for the establishment of National 
banks that shall have control of the currency of the 
country.” 

The resolution was adopted after some friendly dis- 
cussion, and a committee of bankers appointed. 

On reaching Washington, this committee called on 
Secretary Chase of the Treasury Department, and held 
a conference with him. The chairman of the commit- 
tee, a Philadelphia banker, addressed the Secretary as 
follows : 

“We come to you, Mr. Secretary, as authorized rep- 
resentatives of the largest and in every way the most 
important monetary convention that was ever held in 
this or any other country. A convention which com- 
prises representatives from every money center of the 
United States not only, but of Europe also. We speak 
for that great body of financiers when we say that if 
the legal tender bill which has passed the House of 
Representatives should become a law, it would prove 
fatal to the credit of this Nation. Let that act go upon 


WAYS AND MEANS. 


31 


the statute book of the Nation and thereafter not one 
dollar could be borrowed in this country or Europe on 
the credit of the United States, for the excellent reason 
that this Government would be unable to pay its bonds 
or even the interest on its bonds in anything but the 
fiat currency provided for by that bill, and this curren- 
cy must inevitably depreciate in value as the volume 
increases. We insist, therefore, that this bill be laid 
aside. We pledge you that if that is done all the money 
the Government may need will be at its service on 
liberal terms.” 

Secretary Chase had listened with great attention to 
this speech, and at its close he replied : 

“ Mr. Chairman, and gentlemen of the committee : 
The gravity of the’ question under discussion is such 
that I shrink from the responsibility of giving you my 
views further than to say that the policy of issuing 
treasury notes to meet the public expenses was forced 
upon the Government by the bankers of this country. 
The experiment has been a success, and the plan is now 
so popular that I could not get Congress to lay this bill 
aside should 1 ask that that be done, and I could not 
bring myself to ask it. Your threat that in case of the 
continuance of this policy the banks you represent 
would refuse to lend this Government a dollar does not 
frighten me. It would have frightened me eight 
months ago. But the success of the greenback experi- 
ment is so signal that I am strongly inclined to the 
opinion that we can get on famously without borrow- 
ing money of banks at ruinous i-ates of interest. But 
this bill is now in the Senate Committee, and I suggest 
that you give that committee the benefit of your views,” 

On reaching their parlor at Willard’s Hotel, the com- 
mittee of bankers held a conference to consider the 
situation. The speech of Secretary Chase had fright- 
ened them almost into a panic. 

It is very clear,” said the chairman, ‘‘ that we can- 
not defeat the bill we came to defeat. Yet I am not 
disposed to give up hope. I am sure that the wisdom 
of this committee will prove equal to the task of find- 
ing some plan by which the Secretary’s policy may be 
fianked, and his hopes blasted. We can try what vir- 


32 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

tue there may be in cunning amendments and specious 
logic. The bill as it passed the House provides for a 
full legal money to be issued by the Government and 
backed by the wealth and power of the Nation. W e 
know, gentlemen, that money of that sort would not, 
could not, depreciate, but would remain at par while 
the Government continued to exist. It would be the 
standard money of this country, and if gold and silver 
coins remained in circulation they would circulate on 
a parity with the treasury note. That, gentlemen, 
would ruin us and those we represent. It would make 
it impossible for us to make anything out of this war 
not only, but it would revolutionize the financial sys- 
tem so radically as to uproot and destroy the monopoly 
of money so long held by bankers.” 

When the chairman resumed his seat a member of 
the committee proposed the following as an amend- 
ment to the bill : 

Provided, That the notes provided for, and author- 
ized, by this act, shall be legal tender for all purposes 
except duties on imports and interest on the public 
debt.” 

‘‘ In presenting this amendment, Mr. Chairman, I beg 
leave to say that in my opinion its adoption would 
solve the problem that confronts us in a manner more 
satisfactory to those we represent than the defeat of 
the bill. And I believe that we can get this amend- 
ment adopted. In appearance it is a very small and 
very harmless amendment. But, gentlemen, its effects 
would be powerful and far reaching. The greenback 
would remain at par in the payment of all debts, even 
the public debt, and in the purchase of all goods. It 
would be the sole money used by the Nation in its deal- 
ings with the people and by the people in their deal- 
ings with each other. It could not therefore depre- 
ciate. But gold and silver would appreciate. Why? 
Because merchants must have it to pay the tariff tax 
on their imported goods, and the Government must 
have it to pay the interest on Government bonds. 

‘‘ The bankers have nearly all the gold and silver in 
the country. We would realize premiums on it. We 
could, in fact, command our own prices for it. We 


WAYS AND MEANS. 


33 


could sell our gold and silver at heavy premium and 
take greenbacks at par ; then with the greenbacks 
buy Government bonds which would bear coin interest. 
I predict, now, that in case the bill should become a 
law with this amendment in it, the premium on coin 
would reach 100 per cent witliin a year. Possibly it 
would reach a much higher figure. Then, gentlemen, 
would be our harvest time. Then we could sell our 
coin and buy Government bonds. When we get a 
sufficient amount of Government bonds in our hands, 
we will get Congress to pass a bill providing for Na- 
tional banks, based on Government bonds. This will 
be the culmination of our scheme. This programme if 
carried out will prove a bonanza to us, and those we 
represent.” 

The committee adopted the plan suggested by the 
speaker, and calling upon Senator Sherman they secur- 
ed his influence in favor of the proposed amendment. 

Hon. Thaddeus Stevens, of Pennsylvania, Chairman 
of the Committee of Ways and Means of the House of 
Representatives, stood by the bill as it had passed the 
House and fought for it in the conference committee 
till overwhelmed by numbers. He then uttered this 
protest and warning : 

“ Mr. Speaker, I have a melancholy foreboding that 
we are about to consummate a cunningly devised 
scheme which will carry great injury and great loss 
to all classes of people throughout the Union, except 
one. No act of legislation was ever hailed with as 
much delight by every class of people as the bill which 
we passed and sent to the Senate. It is true that a 
doleful sound came up from the caverns of bullion 
brokers, and the salons of the associated banks. 
Their agents were soon on the ground, and persuaded 
the Senate to mangle and destroy, wi^th little delibera- 
tion, what it had cost the House months to digest, con- 
sider and pass. They fell upon the bill in hot haste 
and so disfigured and deformed it that its father would 
not know it. Instead of being a beneficent and invig- 
orating measure it is now positively mischievous. It 
has all the bad qualities which its enemies charge 
upon the original bill and none of its benefits.” 


34 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

The historian informs us that as this grand old 
Commoner uttered the words here given, great tears 
rolled down his cheeks. 

The programme of the banker who framed the 
amendment to the bill was fully carried out; the 
National bank part of it proving as great a bonanza 
as the most sanguine Shylock could have hoped for. 

The result of the visit to Washington of that com- 
mittee of bankers is partly seen in the panics that 
have wrecked the business of the country and filled 
the land with millionaires, tramps and paupers. It is 
seen, in part, in the millions of mortgaged farms. It 
is seen in the wealth and luxury of large classes of 
idlers aod in the poverty and privation of the far»^ers 
and other classes of honest workers. 


CHAPTER YII. 

A CORN HUSKING. 

In the early days of Indiana, corn huskings, or in 
Hoosier dialect ‘‘'corn shuckin’s,’’ were common in the 
month of December. The Indian corn was not then cut 
and put in shocks while the fodder was yet green, as 
is the usual custom now, but let stand till the blades 
and husks were dry and the corn entirely ripe. Then 
the corn ears were jerked from the standing stalks with 
the husk on and thrown into the bed or box of the farm 
wagon, which would be driven slowly along as the jerk- 
ers on either side proceeded with their work; or some 
farmers would pull the ears from the stalks and throw 
them into piles convenient distances apart, and then 
driving the wagon from pile to pile toss the ears of 
corn into it by hand till it was full, when it was driven 
to the barnyard and emptied by hand into a shed ad- 
joining the corn-crib . The average corn crop was about 
500 bushels, and this was the capacity of the average 
corn-crib. The last load of corn being in the shed, the 
question before the house would be, “When, shall we 
have a corn shuckin’ ? ” 

The corn shuckin’ was nearly always at night. Hence 
a moonlight night and a pleasant night were desirable. 
Some risk must be taken, for, although the moon’s ad- 
vertised nights were known, yet she might be unable 
to appear on account of cloudy weather. The night be- 
ing fixed for the shuckin’, the boys and girls were sent 
in every direction to deliver invitations, by word of 
mouth, to the neighbors. The question, “Who is my 
neighbor?” was easily answered by those pioneer farm- 
ers. A neighbor was he or she who lived near enough 
to you to walk over to your place after the day’s work 
was done, and walk home after 11 o’clock at night with- 

35 


36 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


out serious inconvenience. The limit was from two to 
three miles. 

As invitations to a corn shuckin’ included the whole 
family, usually a quilting bee or a sewing bee was ar- 
ranged for the same evening of the corn shuckin’, 
but in case no such entertainment was provided for the 
wives and daughters of the buskers, they came all the 
same, and while the older women made themselves use- 
ful by assisting the good hostess to prepare supper, the 
girls would join their brothers, fathers and sweethearts 
in the corn shed and do good service as buskers. On 
such occasions the finding of a red ear by a young man 
was considered quite a lucky chance, as by virtue of 
universal custom it entitled him to a kiss from any girl 
in the party he might favor with his choice. The find- 
ing of a red ear by a young woman gave her the right 
to kiss her favorite young man, and in case she declined 
to avail herself of her privilege she was liable to forfeit 
a kiss if any young man of the party chose to claim it. 

Supper usually awaited the finish, but not later than 
10 o’clock, as a rule. If any corn remained in the pile 
with the shuck on at that hour, the farmer and his boys 
would finish the job on rainy days, or on evenings when 
there were no shuckin’s to go to. 

Those were halcyon days, whose sacred memories 
linger in the mind of the writer like echoes from a 
happy long ago. 

The corn husking bee had almost lapsed into innocu- 
ous desuetude in Indiana at the time when the war be- 
gan. But Esau Lindley’s neighbors who still remained 
at home felt it a patriotic duty to lighten the labors, 
cares and expenses of his family as much as they rea- 
sonably could; so by preconcert they assembled on a 
given day at the Bindley homestead, the men and 
boys to husk the crop of corn and store it in the 
crib, and the women and girls to help get the din- 
ner and do whatever other work Mrs. Bindley might 
be able to find for them to do. This corn shuckin’ was 
a day-time affair, for the corn was in the field in shocks. 
Five of the neighbors had brought teams and wagons 
to be used in hauling the husked corn to the crib. They 
came immediately after early breakfast, and the ab- 


A CORN HUSKING. 


'61 


sent soldier’s crop of corn was in the crib and the fod- 
der carefully reshocked by 4 P. M. and everybody off 
for home. 

The buskers divided into as many groups of about 
equal numbers as there were wagons, and the old max- 
im, “Mapy hands make light work,” was well illus- 
trated. The war was the chief topic of conversation 
among the different groups of buskers. They were 
about equally divided politically, and some of the Ke- 
publicans were very radical and some of the Democrats 
very conservative. Yet they discussed the war with- 
out bitterness. The occasion of their coming together 
on that day made friends and brothers of them all for 
the time. 

Deacon Miller was known as a secession sympathizer. 
His Republican neighbors usually referred to him as a 

copperhead.” He had voted for Breckinridge in ’60, 
and he was in the habit of denouncing President Lin- 
coln as “a nigger-loving Abolitionist,” and the war as 
‘‘an Abolition war, got up by the North to rob the South- 
ern people of their niggers.” 

’Squire Reed was, in fact, an Abolitionist of the mod- 
erate Gerrit Smith school. 

Ordinarily these two men were at sword’s points. 
They had no patience with each other’s views. On this 
occasion they found themselves in the same group of 
buskers and near together. 

They worked in silence for perhaps half an hour, 
when the ’Squire said to the Deacon, “Friend Miller, 
did you hear Elder Pritchard last Sunday?” 

“Yes, ’Squire, I heerd him, and I must say he’s a 
prime good preacher. Wuz you thar, ’Squire?” 

“ No, Deacon, I did not get out last Sunday.” 

“ I didn’t think ye wus thar, ’n’ I was kinder sorry 
ye wusn’t kase the Elder spoke uv the war in a way 
thet ’d a suited ye purty well. He set me ter thinking 
thet mabe I’d bin a leetle rong.” 

“ What did he say on the war. Deacon?” 

“ Why, he sed, as near ’s I kin rec’lect, thet Lincoln 
didn’t want to free the niggers, he only wanted to save 
the Union. He sed the South got skeered afore tha 
wus eny cause fer it. An’ that ef tha’d a stayed in the 


38 


ESAU ; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


Union, ole Abe ud a pertected em in their rites under 
the Constitution. ’N’ he sed thet ef they’d quit fitin, 
’n’ cum back now, Lincoln would restore all their rites 
tu ’em, and pertect ’em in ’em. Ef I cud be rite down 
shore uv thet, I wouldn’t feel es I have felt about the 
war.” 

Well, Deacon, I think the Elder gave it to ye 
straight. That’s the view I’ve had of it all the time, 
and I’ve been a little out of patience because old Abe 
seemed to care more for the Union than he did about 
freedom. But I begin to think he is right, and I’ve 
been wrong. I believe I am ready to say to the South : 

‘ If you will lay down your arms, and come back into the 
Union, you may keep your niggers till ye git tired of 
them.’ ” 

‘‘ Give us yer hand on that, ’Squire,” and the Deacon 
extended his right hand toward his neighbor, who 
clasped it in his broad palm, and gave it a hearty 
squeeze. 

Thus it is seen that meeting as they had that day 
met on the plane of good will and benevolent helpful- 
ness to a neighbor, brought into friendly intercourse 
those men who had been kept apart by difference of 
political views and the antagonisms that flourish in iso- 
lation, but which melt away under the influences of 
social intercourse. ‘‘A kind word turneth away wrath ” 
said the king of proverbialists. Deacon Miller could not 
be said to be in a wrathful state of mind that morning 
of the husking bee, but he did not feel very kindly 
toward his neighbor, ’Squire Reed, when flrst he found 
himself thrown into immediate proximity to him. But 
when the ’Squire addressed him in the terms and words 
of friendship, his heart responded, and the unfriendly 
feeling of a moment before gave place to one of neigh- 
borly kindness. 

There is a lesson in this incident which humanity 
needs to learn and heed. That lesson is that the nobler 
faculties of our soul are so related to each other that if 
one is brought into special activity the others are stim- 
ulated through sympathy with it. To perform a benev- 
olent act toward one person excites in the person per- 
forming it a kindly feeling toward everybody. Another 


A CORN HUSKING. 


39 


lesson of great importance is that all real happiness 
comes from the active operation of our higher, nobler 
faculties. 

“ It is more blessed to give than to receive ” simply 
means that the action of the faculty of benevolence is 
more pleasurable, produces greater happiness and of a 
higher sort than the action of acquisitiveness. 

The lower faculties are also grouped together, and 
act in sympathy. To arouse to special activity one 
selfish faculty is to excite to a degree others of the same 
group. For example : Combativeness is the conten- 
tious faculty. It is the watch-dog of one’s opinions 
and one’s rights. It does not fight for opinions or 
rights, but its immediate neighbor and ally, destructive- 
ness, sympathizes with it, and if the argument grows 
very warm, or the invasion of rights is pressed, de- 
structiveness says to combativeness : If you will de- 
clare war, I will fight your battles. Whether it be a 
personal quarrel, or a national disagreement, it is com- 
bativeness that begins it, and then destructiveness takes 
it up. I have said that combativeness begins the quar- 
rel. But back of that is always a primary cause — 
avarice, or ambition, or both, to set combativeness on. 
These selfish faculties, when given rein, set men by 
the ears, or to cutting each other’s throats; while to 
bring into dominant activity the sacred ties of friend- 
ship, benevolence, conscience and others of the altruis- 
tic group cause men to put away strife and contention 
and live like brothers should, in harmony and helpful- 
ness. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

ESAU'S DREAM. 

The second lieutenant of Captain Rosser’s company, 
Walter Burton, was a handsome young fellow of twen- 
ty-two. He was not only handsome in person, but he 
possessed a lovable disposition. He was a most admir- 
able young man, and he had a superior mind and fair 
education. Lieutenant Burton and Private Bindley 
were special friends. They were much together, de- 
spite the etiquette of the army, which forbids the free 
intercourse of officers and privates. It will be remem- 
bered that regular army etiquette had but little influ- 
ence on the relations of the volunteer citizen soldiers 
during the flrst year of the war. 

It was the month of December, ’61; time, 8 P. M. 
Esau Bindley had just been relieved from picket duty. 
He was the last man on Bieut. Burton’s relief round. 
They returned to camp together. They walked in single 
file and in silence until all possible danger of being 
overheard by lurking foes had passed, when Esau 
touched his friend’s arm to attract his attention, and 
he turned and asked, “What is it, my friend?” 

“I don’t know as it is anything, Walter, worth tell- 
ing, but it troubles me soihewhat, and I can’t shake it 
off.” 

“You excite my curiosity. Tell me what it is that 
troubles you, and if I can do anything for you com- 
mand me.” 

“Thank you, Walter; but it concerns you more than 
it does me. But I’ll tell you what it is, only asking 
that you don’t laugh at me for being troubled about a 
dream, for it’s only a dream I have to tell you. But 
yet it seemed to be different, more real, than an ordi- 
nary dream.” 

“In the first of it a battle was raging, and our regi- 

40 


ESAU’S DREAM. 


41 


ment was in the hottest of the fight. It was terrible. 
Comrades were falling on every side, and balls whis- 
tling past my ears, yet I did not feel afraid for myself, 
but for you. I expected every moment to see you fall. 
Finally the order to fall back ran along the line, and 
we obeyed with alacrity. It was in reality a retreat. 
We were whipped and driven from the field. When it 
was over I looked for you. I looked in vain. I in- 
quired, but nobody could tell me any more than I al- 
ready knew, that when the order to fall back came you 
were some paces in advance of your men, hence when I 
turned around you were behind me. You were report- 
ed among the missing. In my dream I slipped away 
from the camp, and sought for you on the battlefield. 
I found you lying insensible, if not dead, near where I 
had last seen you standing. I resolved to carry you in 
my arms to the camp, but at that moment I found my- 
self surrounded by Confederates, who carried you away, 
but did not seem to see me. I followed them. They 
bore you to the house of a farmer, not far away, and 
left you in charge of the family, with strict instructions 
not to allow you to escape, if you should revive and be 
able to travel. I approached the bed where they had 
laid you and felt your pulse. They beat feebly, but 
they had not stopped beating. A surgeon came in and 
examined you. Turning to the family, he said : 

‘ This ofiicer is seriously wounded, but with careful 
nursing he may recover.’ 

« That he shall have,’ said a middle-aged, farmer- 
looking man, who seemed to be the owner of the house, 
< for though he is a Federal soldier, he is a prisoner 
and a guest in my house ! ’ 

At that moment a young girl came in, and throwing 
off her cloak and bonnet, she asked, ‘ Who is this you 
have here ? ’ 

‘ A wounded prisoner,’ replied the farmer; ‘ he was 
brought from the field by a party of our soldiers, who 
asked that he be cared for and guarded till it is safe to 
remove him. I depend on you, my daughter, to nurse 
this foe of ours.’ 

‘ I accept the task, father, in the name of humanity. 
But I confess I should much prefer to nurse a Confeder- 


42 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


ate than one of the hateful Yankees, for I’m a secesh 
girl to the core of my heart.’ 

She was a beautiful girl, and I felt sure a noble- 
hearted one, and I was glad that you had fallen into 
such good hands, though it seemed dreadful to leave you 
a prisoner in the hands of the rebels. I approached you 
to bid you good-by, but you took no notice of me. I tried 
various ways to attract your attention, but failed, and 
was obliged to leave without your knowing I had 
sought you out on the battlefield, and followed you to 
this house.” ’ 

‘‘ Well, my friend, that is quite a romantic dream, 
if only a dream. If it should prove to be a prophetic 
vision, it’s not so bad as it might be. I’d much rather 
fall into the hands of a lovely secesh girl than be 
thrust into a loathsome prison cell, or hospital.” 

Esau did not tell Walter that he had had dreams be- 
fore which proved prophetic. He feared that it might 
cause him uneasiness ; but the fact that on two occa- 
sions in his life he had the future revealed to him in 
visions of the night, caused him to fear for his friend 
should the battle they were daily expecting occur. 

Two days passed, bringing no more thrilling incident 
than the occasional exchange of shots by picket guards, 
and the arrest and trial by drumhead court, and execu- 
tion of a rebel spy. All felt sure that the two hostile 
armies, now lying so near each other, must join in the 
duel of battle soon. Evidently the commanders of both 
were watching for some advantage of the other in mak- 
ing or inviting an attack. “ All things come to those 
who wait ” proved true in this case, for while the boys 
in blue were at breakfast on the morning of December, 
— , ’61, the order to fall in passed along the line, and im- 
mediately the booming of artillery was heard in the 
direction of the Confederate lines. In an hour the 
battle was on in terrible earnest. 

Esau had good reason to recall his dream, for the 
scenes of it were duplicated in actual fact up to the 
time of the retreat of the th Indiana. As the or- 

der to fall back struck his ear, he saw Lieut. Burton 
just as he had seen him in his dream, a few paces in 
front of his company waving his sword and encourag- 


ESAU’S DREAM. 


43 


ing his men, in a manner so brave as to border on reck- 
lessness. He saw him no more for weeks. He was re- 
ported missing, as Esau had dreamed. The facts of 
actual experience had followed the incidents of the 
vision to this point, and there to all appearances had 
stopped. But did they? We will see. 

Weeks went by and no news of the missing officer, 
Walter Burton, came to headquarters, or to his friend, 
Bindley. The regiment had halted near its former 
camp, and with other regiments was awaiting orders 
to move, which were daily expected. Esau Bindley 
was on picket duty on a Sunday night in January, '62. 
Again his post was on the extreme left. The night 
was one of the darkest. No moon above the horizon, 
and the stars obscured by heavy clouds. The situation 
of our hero was cheerless and dangerous. A sound as 
of the breaking of a twig fell on his ear, and he gave, 
just above a whisper, the challenge — 

Who comes there ? ” 

No answer came back in response. “ It might have 
been some brute that made the noise, but if so, no harm 
can come from repeating the challenge,” he solilo- 
quized, so he said in distinct, though not loud tones, If 
you do not answer I shall fire in your direction ” 

The answer came back, For Heaven’s sake don’t 
shoot, as you might kill a friend.” 

The voice sounded familiar. Yet Esau felt the 
necessity of vigilance ; so with his repeating rifie on 
cock, and his revolver loosened in his belt, he advanced 
a few paces in the direction from whence the voice 
seemed to come, and said, If you are a friend ad- 
vance and give the countersign.” 

The same voice responded, ‘^I cannot give the coun- 
tersign, but I want to surrender myself a prisoner and 
be taken into camp.” 

This might be a ruse by which the stranger, if a foe, 
hoped to get near enough to the sentinel to spring upon 
him and stab him to the heart, and thus gain entrance 
to the lines. But Esau was strongly impressed in favor 
of his unknown midnight visitor. He therefore re- 
solved to give him the benefit of the doubt, yet to omit 


44 ESAU ; OB, THE .BANKER’S VICTIM. 

no reasonable precaution, hence he asked, “ Who are 
you, and what are you doing out here ?” 

‘‘I am Lieut. Burton of Co. A., th Indiana In- 

fantry, and I am trying to find my way to my regi- 
ment, and if my ears do not deceive me I am about to 
fall into the hands of my friend Esau Lindley.’’ 

It was enough ! The brave soldier, forgetting for the 
moment that he was on picket duty, dropped his rifie 
and, rushing forward, folded his arms about the form 
of the friend whose mysterious disappearance in the 
midst of battle had caused him so much anxiety. His 
friend responded with equal warmth to his embrace, 
and then he said : 

I am the luckiest fellow alive. I always fall into 
good hands when taken prisoner. But, my best of 
friends, I must tell you at once that your dream was 
all a prevision. It has been verified in detail — to the 
very letter! You doubtless remember it, and if so you 
can verify the fulfillment up to the order for our regi- 
ment to fall back on that terrible day at . Well, I 

can verify the rest of the dream, and then add to it 
the first part of a most romantic sequel, the second 
chapter of which is as yet unwritten and unwritable.” 

‘‘Well, Walter, as I shall be obliged to hold you here 
a close prisoner for at least an hour before I can hope 
to be relieved, I hope you will give me a history of your 
adventures since your mysterious disappearance.” 

“ When the order to fall back was given, I was 
very properly where your dream and my duty united 
in placing me, a few paces in advance of my com- 
pany,” began the Lieutenant. “ I remember my po- 
sition and I remember hearing the order. But I re- 
member nothing more of the battle. The next thing I 
remember was seeing a pair of blue eyes, which looked 
down into mine when I opened them after what 
seemed a sound sleep. As the range of my vision 
widened it took in other features of a face so beauti- 
ful and so benign that I wondered if I was really in 
Heaven, and this lovely creature an angel of celestial 
grace. This hallucination was soon, but not rudely, 
dispelled by my nurse, for such this beautiful blue- eyed 
creature proved to be. 


ESAU’S DREAM. 


45 


“ ‘You are better now,’ she said. 

^ “ ‘Yes,’ I answered, ‘I am sure I am better, though 
I’ve no idea what ails me, or where I am. Won’t you 
please tell me ? ’ 

“ ‘ You were wounded in the battle, and brought here 
to be cared for. That is as much as, I think, I ought 
to tell you now. When you are stronger you shall 
have the details. Now, please take this draught and 
then go to sleep.’ 

“ I took the draught she held to my lips, then closed 
my eyes for a moment, that she should see that I was 
obedient. The temptation to look again, before I 
slept, into the liquid depths of those blue eyes was too 
strong to be resisted. I looked, but my lovely nurse 
had turned from me, and was moving quietly toward 
a door communicating with another room. There 
being nothing now within the range of my vision 
worth looking at, I again closed my eyes, and soon 
was sound asleep. It was three in the afternoon, 
when I closed my eyes, this time. When I awakened 
again the clock on the mantel shelf was on the stroke 
of ten. I was consciously awake some seconds before 
I unclosed my eyelids. My thoughts reverted at once 
to the beautiful girl I had seen bending over me, but I 
feared that she was only a dream girl, a vision of loveli- 
ness that had come to me in my sleep. Imagine my 
joy to find her sitting near my couch, with a book lying 
on her lap, which she had doubtless been reading, but 
on the pages of which her eyes did not now rest, for 
sleep had overcome her where she sat and closed the 
curtains of those windows of her soul. I was glad to 
find her sleeping, for I could now feast my eyes upon 
her beauty without seeming rude. Yet I hoped that 
she would awake soon, for I was anxious to talk with 
her. I had many questions to ask which clamored for 
answers. I did not have many minutes to wait. I 
think I must have impressed my thought, my ques- 
tioning thought, upon her mental sensorium so 
strongly as to awaken her. Be that as it may, her 
eyelids unclosed as I looked into her face, and as a 
lovely blush spread over her features, followed by a 
most bewitching smile, she said : 


46 


ESAU ; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


‘‘ ‘ I believe I had fallen asleep at my post. But I hope 
no harm has come to my charge in consequence.’ 

“‘No, indeed,’ I replied; ‘I am sure no harm could 
come to one in your charge, for if you slept, other angels 
would guard both you and him.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, now I know you are resuming your normal con- 
dition, for you are beginning to flatter me. But I for- 
give you on the ground that your mind is still wander- 
ing. But how do you feel ?’ 

“‘Splendidly,’ I replied. ‘I really can’t understand 
what business I have to be playing invalid. Will you 
be so kind as to explain the mystery of my situation, 
my very pleasant situation.’ Smiling at the ingenuous 
compliment, which was so deftly put as to leave no 
ground for objecting to it, she said : 

“ ‘You are, I think, sufficiently recovered to safely 
hear the history of your case. But I warn you that if 
I should see signs of weariness before the whole story 
is told, I shall do as other story-tellers do, say “ Contin- 
ued,” and give you another sleeping draught. With 
this preface, I proceed with your story. 

“ ‘Just a fortnight yesterday the battle of was 

fought, only a short distance from here. We could 
plainly hear the boom of the murderous artillery, the 
death-dealing rattle of musketry and the sharp report of 
the rifle from early dawn till almost night. Then came 
the cheering news that our side had won the day. The 
foe had been driven from his position and was in full 
retreat. I had spent the day with an aunt whose 
husband is in the army, and on my return home in the 
evening I foTind a squad of soldiers, a surgeon and a 
wounded officer here. I learned that the officer was in 
such a state that in the opinion of the surgeon he could 
not be moved further with safety, so my father was 
asked if he could be left here until sufficiently re- 
covered.’ Here she paused, and with a show of embar- 
rassment said : 

“ ‘ But I am getting ahead of my story. Suffice it, I 
was installed as nurse, and though inexperienced I have 
done as well as I could, and my patient, I am glad to 
see, is going to get well.’ 


ESAU’S DREAM. 


47 


“ ‘ But you have not told me anything about the na- 
ture of my wound.’ 

“ ‘Haven’t I? Well, you were wounded in the head. 
But fortunately the ball did not penetrate the brain, but 
only compressed the skull and left you insensible, in 
which state you remained until this afternoon. Another 
gunshot wound, though slight and now almost healed, 
was at first the most dangerous. That was in the left 
arm, and it had bled so freely as to leave you very 
weak.’ 

“ I thanked her for her story and then asked, ‘ To whom 
am I indebted for so much kindness, aye, for my life ? ’ 

“‘To the surgeon, who had you brought here,’ she 
replied. 

“‘I fully appreciate his kindness, but you misap- 
prehend my question. I desire to know something 
of your father and yourself.’ 

“ ‘ And you shall before long. But I think you have 
talked enough and heard enough for to-night. Enough 
that you are in the home of a Virginian, and that you 
have a nurse that will do her duty by you to the best 
of her ability. Now take this dose of medicine, and 
then go to sleep.’ 

“ I obeyed ; what else could I do. 

“ I slept soundly till eight o’clock the next morning, 
when I awoke to find myself alone. A few moments 
later a middle-aged man came into the room and very 
quietly approached my bed. Seeing me awake he bade 
me good morning in a pleasant voice and inquired how 
I felt. I returned his salutation and assured him that 
I felt quite well. 

“ ‘ I am glad to hear you make so favorable a report,’ 
he said, ‘ and I hope you are ready for your morning 
rations, as all you need is to eat heartily and in that 
way regain your lost strength, so I will send my daugh- 
ter to you with your breakfast at once.’ 

“ Three minutes later my charming, but as yet un- 
known nurse, brought me a most savory breakfast and 
was good enough to sit by me and talk to me while I 
ate. 

“ ‘ You asked last night,’ she began, ‘ that I tell you 
something of ourselves. I will now do so, if you will 


48 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

tell me of yourself. It seems proper that we should be 
introduced to each other now you are almost well, and 
may leave us soon. 

“ ^ My father’s name is James C. Janney. He is a 
farmer and I think a most excellent man. I am his 
only daughter, and I have one brother, now a soldier 
in the Confederate army. So you see we are what you 
would call rebels. My brother’s name is Alfred K. Jan- 
ney and he is like yourself, a second lieutenant. My 
name is Esther and I have been my father’s house- 
keeper since the death of my mother, five years ago.’ 

She paused for me to speak and I gave her a brief 
account of myself. I then asked her to tell me frankly 
whether or not I was a prisoner. She blushed as she 
said, ‘Yes, the soldiers who brought you here charged 
my father not to let you leave his house until he should 
receive further instructions in regard to you. I wish 
that I could say that you are at liberty to rejoin your 
friends, but I am not. My father’s honor if not my 
own is pledged. I must, therefore, ask that you give 
me your word, as a gentleman and a soldier, not to 
leave here, without my father’s consent, while we are 
responsible for your safe keeping.’ 

“ ‘I readily make the promise you ask,’ I said, ‘and 
I assure you that nothing, not even the certainty of 
long imprisonment, or even death, could induce me to 
compromise such friends as my noble host and his 
lovely daughter have proven themselves in this crisis 
of my life. Besides, I can but consider myself on pa- 
role of honor to the generous man, my captor, who, to 
save my life, brought me to this hospitable home and 
left me in such excellent hands. That parole must be 
ended before I could feel at liberty to escape through 
the opportunity offered. 

“‘Those are the sentiments of a true gentleman, 
and I cannot feel that we are foes, save in a politi- 
cal sense.’ 

“‘Foes — you and I foes? Never! Politics to the 
winds ; we are friends, now and forever.’ As I 
closed this rhapsody I extended my right hand to- 
ward Esther, and with a smile she gave me hers, nor 


ESAU’S DREAM. 


49 


(lid she chide me when I pressed it warmly, not only, 
but kissed it, as any knight might kiss his lady’s hand. 

“What more might have been said or done there’s 
no telling, but at that moment the sound of galloping 
horses was heard down the lane, and a moment later a 
small troop of Confederate cavalry halted at the gate, 
and dismounting, came to the door of my room. 

“Fora moment the face of my beautiful friend paled 
and a shiver ran through her frame, but recovering 
herself, she said in a voice calm and even : 

“ ‘ Gentlemen, my father is in the parlor, will you 
walk in there ? ’ 

“ ‘Thank you, madam,’ said the leader, a sergeant, 
and he turned and entered the other part of the house. 

“ ‘ They have come for me,’ I said. 

“‘Yes, I fear so. At least I think so, but we will 
soon know.’ 

“Just then Mr. Janney and the sergeant walked in, 
and coming forward my host said : 

“ ‘ Lieutenant Burton, permit me to introduce Sergeant 

Hill of the th Virgina Cavalry.’ I acknowledged 

the introduction, and the sergeant said : 

“ ‘Well, Lieutenant, I hope you are able to ride, for 
I’ve been sent to take you to prison Mr. Janney 
thinks you’re hardly well enough to stand the trip, but 
we’ve left you here as long as we think it safe. If you 
git much better you might give us the slip, and a Yank 
in hand, or rather in prison, is worth two in the bush. 
So if Miss Janney will go into the other room, we’ll 
help you git into yer uniform.’ 

“Esther left the room at once and I arose and donned 
my uniform. Just as I announced my readiness to 
travel, Elsther came to the door and said : ‘ Father, I 
thought perhaps the gentlemen might be the better 
for a lunch before starting, so I have had some cold 
meats and bread set out and a pot of coffee prepared.’ 

“ ‘ Thank you, miss,’ said the sergeant. ‘ I’m much 
obliged to you, for I’m ritedown hungry, that’s a fact.’ 

“ Esther ha<i set out an excellent lunch and the Con- 
federates did full justice to it. But I was not hungry. 
I would have given much for a half hour with my 
nurse, now alas, no longer my nurse, apart from others. 


50 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


but that was out of the question. I could only press 
her hand and say, ‘ Heaven bless you for your kindness 
to me,’ as I did also to her father, on parting with him. 
I tell you, my friend, it was awful hard on a fellow to 
be torn from such friends so suddenly and dragged off 
to a rebel prison.” 

Just at this point in Walter’s narrative the relief 
came. 


CHAPTER IX. 

ESTHER JANNEY’S ADVENTURE. 

The party of Confederates, with Lieutenant Burton 
mounted on a led horse and closely watched, rode away 
from the Janney homestead at a brisk pace along the 
road leading south. They did not inform their prison, 
er or his host of their destination. Mr. Janney had 
not manifested any curiosity on the subject, fearing 
that his doing so would subject him to suspicion of an 
interest in the prisoner not consistent with his loyalty 
to the Confederate cause. He strongly suspected that 
Richmond was their objective point, however, and said 
so to Esther as the party rode away. 

‘‘ But to reach Richmond they will have to pass 
through the Federal lines, or go a long way around,’’ 
suggested Esther. 

‘‘Yes,” replied her father, “ they will be obliged to 
make a detour that will delay them two days at least. 
Where do you suppose they will strike the main road 
again? ” 

“ Some distance north of Staunton, I should say.” 
Esther thought it wise to ask no further questions, and 
besides she now possessed all the information her fath- 
er could give her, for she knew as much of the posi- 
tions of the contending armies as he did. A heroic re- 
solve took full possession of her heart. She would 
attempt the rescue of Lieut. Burton. The attempt 
would be perilous, she knew ; she knew also that her 
father would oppose her if let into her secret ; she must, 
therefore, hold counsel with herself only. Her plans 
were quickly made, and promptly did she enter upon 
their execution. On retiring to her room at 9 P. M., 
Esther for the first time turned her mind in upon it- 
eelf ; she reviewed the events of the past fortnight : 


52 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


Her vigilant interest in the young officer, who had fall- 
en under her care through the exigencies of war ; how 
her prejudices against the Yankee soldiers had melted 
away, as she sat by the side of this handsome and 
noble looking, though unconscious young Federal sol- 
dier. She recalled the expression of pleased surprise 
which he showed in his face on first awakening to con- 
sciousness. She lingered over the grateful words he 
had uttered, and the soulful expression of his face, 
when he would speak of her kindness ; and her heart 
thrilled with special emotion and tears of tenderest 
sentiment came into her blue eyes as she recalled in de- 
tail their last private interview, so rudely broken up by 
the arrival of those cruel soldiers. ^^Had I been carried 
off by the Yankee soldiers, he would risk his life ta 
rescue me ; then why should I not risk my life, if neces- 
sary, in the effort to rescue him and save his life, for I 
am sure that if thrust into a Richmond prison he will 
die. But now my duty is made plain to me, I must 
lose no time.” So saying she opened her wardrobe 
and took from it a heavy woolen dress, a quilted bon- 
net of heavy material and a pair of heavy-soled calf- 
skin shoes. Having donned this suit, she sat down to 
her desk and wrote the following letter : 

‘‘Dear Father; — It is midnight, and I am about 
starting on a mission of mercy. Dear father, forgive 
me for not consulting you. I feared you would oppose 
me, and I know that it is my duty to go. I am sure 
you will understand my mission without further ex- 
planation, so I will only add that I shall be careful of 
myself while away, and return as soon as possible to 
my dearly loved home and the best of fathers. 

“ Lovingly, your daughter Esther.” 

Sealing the letter, Esther addressed it to her father 
and left it lying on her desk. She then visited the 
pantry and filled a reticule with substantial food. 
Throwing a heavy woolen cloak around her and clasp- 
ing it at the throat, this brave girl was ready to start 
upon her perilous journey. She had her hand on the 
door-knob, when the thought came to her for the first 


ESTHER JANNEY’S ADVENTURE. 


53 


time that she possibly might need some money. For- 
tunately she had of her own a few gold and^silver coins, 
and dropping these into an inside pocket o'f her cloak 
she left the house so quietly that none but herself knew 
of her going. Proceeding to the barn she saddled her 
own horse and, mounting him, rode away. 

Esther’s plan was to pass through the Federal lines and 
intercept the party having Lieutenant Burton in charge, 
and trust to her luck and such circumstances as might 
arise to aid her in effecting the release or escape of her 
friend. His parole, of course, expired when he was 
taken from the care of the Janneys, hence he could take 
advantage of any chance of escape without dishonor. 
With her hair drawn back from her forehead and tied in 
a knot at the back of her head, her face obscured by her 
poke-bonnet and her form enveloped in a cloak such as 
are commonly worn by farmers’ wives, Esther was well 
disguised without seeming to be, and would readily 
pass for a farmer’s wife of the vicinity on a visit to the 
village or to some neighbor. She was familiar with 
the country occupied by the Federal troops and knew 
many people of that section of the country. It was 
about 9 o’clock on the next morning when our heroine 
crossed the picket-line of the Federal army. She was 
halted, as a matter of course, but her answers and her 
appearance and manner were such as to secure her from 
arrest or detention. Having passed the picket-line on 
the north, she was now safe from detention until she 
should reach the picket-line on the south. There she 
was liable to be searched as well as questioned, and so 
it fell out. 

She was riding leisurely along the public road, when 
a peremptory command to halt caused her to draw rein. 
A soldier approached and questione*d her. 

‘'Madam,” he said, “I hope you won’t think that I 
doubt your word, but I can’t let you pass until the re- 
lief comes.” 

“ Very well,” responded Esther, “ I will wait, 
though I hope I will not have long to wait.” Her 
manner was calm, but she was quite alarmed lest she 
should be turned back, and her enterprise come to an 
untimely end. 


54 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

In perhaps half an hour the relief came and the 
situation was explained to the officer of the guard, 
who, after addressing a few questions to Esther, po- 
litely requested her to go with him to headquarters. 

On reaching the headquarters of General W she 

was politely assisted to alight by the officer who had 
brought her in, and who introduced her to the General 
and left her to make such explanations as she could. 

Inviting her to be seated. General W. asked what 

he could do for her. She had heard Lieutenant Burton 

speak of General W as a personal friend of his, 

and this fact and her very pleasant impressions of him 
determined her to take him into her confidence, so she 
told him as much of her story as she thought it need- 
ful to tell. The General listened with pleased interest, 
and when Esther’s story was finished he extended his 
hand toward his visitor, and on her taking it he said : 

My dear young lady, you have my heartiest sym- 
pathy in this noble mission which you have under- 
taken. Lieutenant Burton is indeed a noble young 
man. I do not, at first, quite see how I can aid you, 
but will think it over. In the meantime, your horse 
must be fed, and you will do me the honor to dine with 
our mess, as my guest.” 

To say that Esther Janney was now one of the hap- 
piest girls in Virginia would be but a mild way of de- 
scribing her state of mind. The dinner was soon 
ready, and the General escorted his fair guest into the 
mess tent and presented her to the members of his 
staff, and there gave her the post of honor at the table. 
Her plain dress, and the way her pale gold tresses were 
drawn back, detracted somewhat from her beauty, but 
Esther was still beautiful, and her manner and conver- 
sation proved her a young lady of talent and culture. 

Colonel B in speaking of her afterward said that she 

reminded him of a lovely young Quakeress in Indiana 
he had the pleasure of knowing. She proved a nine 
days’ wonder, for none save the General knew the 
secret of her visit. 

After dinner the General and his fair guest had a 
private conference, at the close of which her horse 
was brought around, and the General himself assisted 


ESTHER JANNEY’S ADVENTURE. 55 

Esther into her saddle and bade her adieu with a gal- 
lant wave of the hand and an earnest though inaudi- 
ble prayer for her safety and success. 

He had given her a pass in these words : 

‘‘ The bearer is the daughter of a prominent citizen 
of , Va. She is personally known to me, and al- 

though her sympathies are with the Confederate cause, 
I personally vouch for her integrity and honor. Her 
only brother is in the Confederate army, near, or in 
Richmond, and not having heard from him for some 
months she is desirous of visiting him. I see no reason 
for refusing her permission to pass through the lines of 
my command, and I hereby grant the required permis- 
sion. L. W — , 

General Commanding — Corps.^* 

This was rather out of the regular form of passes, 
but it was intended to serve the purpose of the bearer 
in the Federal lines not only, but the General meant to 
so construct it that it would serve her purpose equally 
well should she get into the Confederate lines. An 
orderly escorted our heroine beyond the lines of Gen- 
eral W ’s command and then with a brave heart she 

pursued her journey alone till near nightfall when she 
sought lodging for the night at a farmhouse by the 
roadside. She was hospitably entertained and after a 
good breakfast on the following morning she resumed 
her journey. At near 6 o’clock in the afternoon of 
this second day she came to a country innj or in Vir- 
ginia parlance, a ‘‘tavern,” where she resolved to 
spend the night. No questions were asked by the 
landlord, but Esther voluntarily showed her pass to the 
good hostess. This proved to be a most fortunate cir- 
cumstance, as will appear as our story proceeds. 

It was midnight. The old clock in the corner of the 
public room had just proclaimed that fact. Esther 
Janney had slept three hours, having retired early, but 
she was wide awake now. She felt impressed that 
danger lurked near. The sound of the hammer strokes 
upon the bell of the clock had scarce died away, when 
a party of horsemen rode up to the inn, and a loud 


56 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


‘‘Hello, landlord,” rang out on the night air. Esther 
could not resist the temptation to tiptoe to the window 
of her chamber and take a peep at the new-comers. 
Her heart jumped into her throat at what she saw. 
There at the tavern gate were the party she was en- 
deavoring to intercept — the squad of Confederates and 
their prisoner. Lieutenant Burton. Her friend had not 
succumbed to fatigue, then, as she feared he might, 
but seemed to have gained strength since she had 
seen him, three days before. 

The landlord responded to the call, and in a short 
time the horses were safely housed and the party were 
enjoying a hot supper. 

“Who have you in the house to-night, landlord?” 
asked the sergeant. 

“Nobody but a woman on her way to Staunton on 
horseback.” 

“Do you know who she is, or what she’s a-goin’ to 
Staunton for ? ” 

“No, I didn’t ax her any questions.” 

“Well, I guess you had better ask her to come down, 
and let me put some leadin’ questions to her.” 

“I don’t think you need to wake her up,” spoke up 
the landlady, “for she’s all right. I saw her pass from 

General W ; she’s on her way to visit her brother, 

who’s a Confederate officer and is sick in the hos- 
pital.” 

“Oh, well, we won’t disturb her dreams then.” 

Esther Janney had heard all this table talk. She was 
quite frightened when the sergeant proposed having 
her brought down to be questioned and in her heart 
she sincerely thanked the landlady for her explanation 
which saved her that embarrassment, not to say peril. 
She felt sure she would not be able to avoid meeting 
these men at breakfast on the next morning, nor could 
she think of allowing Lieutenant Burton to leave that 
house until she could see him in a good light and thus 
judge of his state of health. She slept no more that 
night ; her brain was too busy with plans for sleep to 
come near it. Plan after plan presented themselves 
and after careful examination were rejected. The ris- 
ing bell had sounded through the house before she had 


ESTHER JANNET’S ADVENTURE. 


57 


reached a final decision and then she resolved on a 
bold, straightforward course of action. She would 
meet these men in her true character, without show- 
ing the least embarrassment, but express surprise at 
seeing them there. As she had supposed that they 
had reached the city of Richmond by that time, she 
would forestall an invitation to join their party by 
asking permission to do so. Having now resolved 
upon her course of action our heroine descended to 
the breakfast room, soon after she had heard the other 
guests enter and take their seats at the table. The 
sergeant in command sat facing the door at which 
Esther entered, and their eyes met at once. He did 
not recognize her, but with an expression of surprise 
admirably simulated, followed by a smile, she said : 
“Is it possible that I see before me Sergeant Dixon?” 
At sound of her well known voice, Walter Burton, 
whose back was turned toward her, turned his head 
quickly and looked up into the face of his friend. 
“And here,” she said, “is my Yankee patient. Well, 
this is quite a surprise. I had hardly expected to ever 
meet any of you again. I hope you have had a pleas- 
ant journey, and that my former patient has improved 
in health.” 

All this Esther had said so rapidly as to give no op- 
portunity to anyone for reply, and as she paused the 
landlady came to her relief by inviting her to take the 
only vacant seat, which chanced to be between her own 
and that of Lieutenant Burton. On accepting the seat 
she extended her hand to Burton, with a pleasant “ How 
d’e do ! For you haven’t yet told me how you are 
standing the journey.” 

Walter assured her that although his ride had tired 
him, he had grown stronger during the past three 
days. 

The sudden and wholly unexpected appearance of this 
young girl overwhelmed Burton with surprise, and her 
costume and still more her manner puzzled him, but on 
a moment’s reflection he was convinced that she was 
playing a part, and he resolved not to betray her or 
embarrass her. Immediately after taking her seat at 
table, and while being helped to a cup of coffee bv the 


58 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


hostess, Esther said : By the way, sergeant, I suppose 
you go to Staunton from here, and if so I hope you will 
not object to my traveling under your protection, as I 
am on my way to that place.” 

‘‘ Yes, Miss Janney, we are going to Staunton to take 
the train to Kichmond and I shall be happy to have ye 
go with us. We shall not be in Staunton afore to-mor- 
row evenin’ tho’ and we may have to camp out, but ef 
we do I’ll try to find a house for you to sleep in.” 

Thank you, sergeant, you are very kind.” 

‘‘ Oh, I alus treat the wimen rite, ’specially when 
they’re young and purty.” 

“You ort to be ashamed of that speech, sergeant,” 
said the landlady, “ for your mother’s an old woman, ef 
she’s livin’, and so you ort to be good to the old wimen 
fer her sake.” 

“ Now, Miss Jones, don’t be too hard on a feller. I 
alers treat the old wimen well, fer’s you say, my moth- 
er’s an old woman. But you see, we young fellers like 
to say nice things to the girls.” 

“I am sure Sergeant Dixon is a true soldier of the 
Confederacy, a brave defender of the bonny blue flag, 
and if so his gallantry is extended to all ladies who need 
his aid without reference to age or condition.” 

“ Thankee, miss, I’m much obliged to ye fer yer good 
opinion.” 

Lieutenant Burton saw in Esther’s defense of Sergeant 
Dixon a fine stroke of feminine diplomacy. He was now 
confirmed in the belief that she was playing a part, but 
what her object might be he dared not venture a guess. 

Breakfast over, the horses were brought around and 
the travelers bade adieu to their host and hostess. 
Esther was profuse in her thanks for kind treatment, 
and as she rode away the old lady said to her husband, 
“ That’s a dear sweet young gal as ever I sot eyes on.” 


1 


CHAPTER X. 

THE RESCUE. 

Lieutenant Burton was a prisoner of war, and as a 
precaution against any attempt to escape, an end of 8 
strong rope halter was fastened to the horse he rod^ 
and the other end was held by a soldier who rode hj 
his side. Esther and the prisoner could converse freely 
in the presence of the Confederates, but private inter- 
course was manifestly out of the question while on the 
road ; nor did any opportunity occur at the inn, where 
they took dinner. So the day wore on, and night ap- 
proached. It was quite dark before the party reached 
an inn, and when at last they came to one it was a 
small concern and was already full. The horses could 
be cared for, after a fashion, and the party could have 
supper and breakfast, but the men would have to sleef 
in the barn. The landlady said she would make a bed 
on a lounge there was in the sitting-room for the young 
lady. 

‘‘ Here, Jim, Dick, you black rascals ! come here and 
take these horses to the barn lot and feed them, and be 
sure to tie ’em so they can’t git loose.” 

As the colored men came forward to obey the order 
of their master, Esther recognized the one called Jim as 
a former slave of her father’s nearest neighbor. The 
thought flashed through her brain : «« Possibly this 

black man can help me.” So as he came to take her 
horse she asked, Isn’t this Jim Taylor, who used to 
belong to ’Squire Taylor in County? ” 

“ Yes’m, dat’s jes who I is, an’ ain’t you Miss Etta 
Janney ? ” 

Yes, Jim, I am Etta Janney, and I am glad to see 
you.” 


60 


KSAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


‘‘Thankee, Miss Etta, I’se mity glad to see you. 
How’s all de home folks ? ” 

“ They were all well when I left home but if you 
will come in after your work is done, I will tell you all 
the news about the home folks.” 

“Thankee, Miss Etta, I’ll come sho, an’ mity glad to 
see ye an’ hear from de ole home once mo’, an’ de 
folks dat live dar.” 

After supper Esther was shown into a small parlor 
adjoining the public room, and after the hostess had 
seen that a comfortable bed was made for her on the 
lounge-sofa, she bade her guest good-night, and left 
her. A few minutes later she heard a tap on the door 
and on Esther’s saying “Come in,” she put her head 
in and said, “ One of our black boys says he was raised 
in your part of the country, and he wants to see you.’’ 

“Yes, I told him that if he would come in after his 
work was done I would give him the news from his 
old home ; so tell him to come in.” 

“Well, now, that’s real kind uv you,” said the good 
old lady as she turned to leave. 

A moment later, Jim entered and for perhaps half 
an hour, Miss Etta, as he called her, was kept busy 
answering his questions about the old folks at home, 
and the young folks too. Then he said : “ Miss Etta, 
yu’s bery kind, an’ I se a heap obliged to ye fer telling 
me ’s much ’bout de folks out dar at de ole home, 
but yu’s tired, so I mus’ go.” 

“No, Jim, don’t go yet. I’ve a secret to tell you.” 
She had moved nearer to this black man, and spoke in 
a subdued tone. He was all respectful attention in a 
moment, and in a voice just above a whisper he re- 
plied : 

“Miss Etta, I’se nothin’ but a pore black slave, but 
if you tell me a secret. I’ll keep it fas’ in here, Miss 
Etta,” laying his right hand over his heart in a most 
impressive manner, “ an’ if yer’s in trouble, an’ I kin 
do anything to help ye out uv it, I’d do it at de resk 
o’ my life.” 

Taking the great black hand of this slave between 
her two soft palms, and looking him full in the face, 
Esther said : 


THE RESCUE. 


6 ] 


‘‘I believe that you are a true-hearted man, Jim, il 
your skin is black. So I am going to trust you with 
the secret of my being here, and ask you to help me.’’ 
Resuming her seat, for she had arisen on the negro's 
rising to go, and requesting Jim to sit down again, 
our heroine told in fewest possible words, consistent 
with clearness, the story of Lieutenant Burton’s being 
brought to her father’s house, of his present situation 
and of her determined purpose to effect his escape, oi 
if she should fail in that, his release from prison. The 
negro listened to the story with absorbing interest, and 
at its close he said : 

‘‘Miss Etta, I rec’ on I’d better be a-goin’ now, kase 
ther ain’t no time to lose and I’se got a plan in my hed, 
I hev. I haven’t no time to tell ye ’bout it now, kase I 
mus git out to de barn ’fore dem sogers go to bed, so’s 
I kin fin’ out whar dat Massa Burton’s goin’ ter sleep.’ 

Esther understood his plan in a general way and saw 
the importance of his immediate departure. Nor did 
he go a moment too soon, for he had hardly reached 
the safe shelter of the barn-loft before the squad of 
soldiers with their prisoner in their midst left the tav- 
ern under the guidance of Dick, and were shown to 
their quarters in the barn, where they spread theii 
blankets on some loose straw and turned in. From 
his perch above Jim took careful note by the light of 
Dick’s lantern of the position occupied by the different 
members of the party. Being familiar with the barn 
and being what is known as an owl-eyed negro, he ob- 
served that the sergeant took the precaution to have 
the prisoner fastened to an upright post or beam near 
the center of the barn, by a long leather strap. This 
gave Jim increased hope, as it showed clearly that the 
whole party meant to sleep. The only fear now was 
that Burton should get into so deep a sleep that he 
could not be awakened quietly and without disturb- 
ing the Confederates. This he must risk. He waited 
quietly for an hour or more, when noting the sounds 
of snoring proceeding from the various Confederates, 
and noting the absence of any sound save regular 
breathing from the prisoner, he quietly descended to 
the floor by means of a ladder that stood near the 


62 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM, 

south door. It was quite dark. Jim could distinguish 
the forms of the sleeping men sufficiently to avoid 
touching them, and knowing the position of Burton he 
was able to reach his side with certainty. He moved 
with the silent tread of a panther approaching its vic- 
tim. Now bending over Lieutenant Burton’s left ear 
as he lies upon his right side his lips almost touch the 
young man’s ear, as he utters the words : 

‘‘I’se yer friend,” in a whisper so nearly inaudible 
that it could not have been heard by the man whose 
head rested less than a foot to the right of Burton, had 
he been wide awake instead of being sound asleep. 
Burton turned his head quietly, for he was wide 
awake, and although surprised he was not startled. 
Jim olDserved the movement of the prisoner’s head 
and guessed correctly that he wanted to give back 
some answer, so he put his ear down close to the lips 
of the young man, who whispered : 

‘‘ Did she send you ? ” 

‘‘Yes, an’ here’s a knife. In ten minutes yer boss’ll 
be ready at de bars.” 

This said, Jim stole out of the barn so silently that 
even Burton could scarcely hear the slightest sound 
from his tread. 

That Heaven and Hades are but mental conditions, 
and that one can pass from the dne condition to the 
other very quickly, Walter Burton realized. He had 
passed from Hades to Heaven in less than sixty sec- 
onds, and the bridge that spanned the great gulf that 
separated them, and over which he had passed, was 
composed of the whispered words of a poor slave. As 
a cold physical fact he was still a prisoner, but despite 
his bonds the rhythmic numbers of a Jubilee song were 
ringing through the corridors of his soul. After wait- 
ing a few minutes he cut the strap that bound him 
with the knife Jim had given him, and almost as 
quietly as the negro had performed the same feat he 
escaped from the barn. On reaching the yard he saw 
that the bars leading to the public road were down 
and a horse fully equipped for traveling stood Just out- 
side. His colored friend and rescuer was nowhere in 
sisrht, nor was anybody else. He did not deem it prudent 


THE RESCUE. 


6S 

to stand on ceremony. So slipping the bridle rein over 
the top of the bar-post where the negro had thrown it, 
he mounted the sergeant’s horse and was off. He let 
the horse walk for a short distance for prudential rea- 
sons, but when he thought it safe to do so, he touched 
his flank lightly with the spur and this put him into a 
gallop. He had come to a turn in the road before 
changing the gait of the horse, and was out of sight 
from the barn, or house, even if anyone had been look- 
ing in the direction he had taken. He had assured 
himself of this by a glance backward. He had come 
to the conclusion that Jim, having done him all the 
service he could, had slipped back into the barn to 
avoid suspicion of complicity in his escape, should it 
be discovered soon. In this he was in error, as he 
soon discovered. He had proceeded but a few rods 
beyond the turn in the road when the negro stepped from 
behind a tree that stood by the roadside into the cen- 
ter of the road, a few paces in advance of him. 

'^Massa Burton, you musn’t stop long, but I mus’ tell 
yer dat Miss Etta cum al de wa frum her home a-per- 
pus to resky you. Dat story ’bout goin’ to see her sick 
bruder, all made up to fool de sargent. Miss Etta 
didn’t tell me ter say dis to ye, but I kinder felt like 
ye ort to no it.” 

“Thank you, my friend, 1 am very glad you told 
me. I don’t know how to thank you enough for your 
kindness to me to-night. I hope that we may meet 
again and that I may be able to repay you in some 
way. But as you said, I must be off ; so good-by, Jim, 
and God bless you. But before I go I must ask you to 
tell Miss Janney that I will see her soon, at any cost 
or risk, and thank her for her great kindness to me.” 

Clasping the hand of this faithful negro in his own 
for a moment. Lieutenant Burton struck the spurs into 
his horse’s flanks and was off for freedom. He rode a 
good horse and the road was in fair condition, hence 
he sped on at a rate not less than twelve miles an hour. 
It was now midnight, so he had six hours in which he 
could follow the public road in comparative safety. 
But when day should dawn, and the people begin to 
come out, it would not be safe for him to keep in the 


64 ESAU ; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

public hii^hway, as his uniform would betray him. He 
was anxious, therefore, to cover as many miles as pos- 
sible before daylight. He did not know that Jim had 
cut the halters of all the horses, including Miss Jan- 
ney’s and that they had strayed out into the open 
country; he feared pursuit from Sergeant Dixon and 
his squad. He knew that he would strike the picket 

line of General W ’s command in six or seven 

hours if his horse should hold up at its present speed 
for that length of time. But this he could scarcely 
hope. He resolved to put at least forty or fifty miles 
behind him before checking the speed of his horse 
voluntarily ; so on he rode with loose rein. Mile after 
mile, and hour after hour sped by and still the faithful 
Confederate charger carried the young Federal officer 
nearer and still nearer to safety with unabated speed. 
At length, however, he began to show signs of fatigue. 
The first symptom was a false step, almost a stumble, 
then he slackened his pace. Burton was not a cruel 
rider, but the fear of capture was stronger than his 
sympathy for the tired horse ; so, after allowing it to 
come to a walk long enough to draw a few long quiet 
breaths, he again struck the spurs into his side and 
again forced him into a gallop. The horse was really 
exhausted and so he stumbled again, and this time 
came to his knees. Burton’s heart was now filled with 
pity for the horse and fear for himself. He saw plain- 
ly that it was useless to attempt a speed beyond a 
walk, and a very slow walk, so he resolved to abandon 
the horse, and proceed on foot. He had no very defi- 
nite idea of the distance he had covered for he had no 
means of measuring the time with any degree of ac- 
curacy, as his captors had relieved him of his watch. 
Stripping the saddle and bridle from the poor tired 
horse and hiding them in a clump of bushes near the 
roadside Burton bade him good-by with caresses and 
started on foot for the Federal lines. 

When the first gray streak of dawning light began 
to shoot athwart the eastern horizon, he left the road 
and took to the woods. He thought it had been about 
an hour since he abandoned the horse, when the first 
sign of morning twilight appeared, hei^ he must have 


THE RESCUE. 


65 


traveled full five hours on horseback, and if his speed 
had averaged ten miles an hour, it could not be above 
thirty miles to the Federal lines. Possibly he was 
now within twenty miles of his old comrades and 
friends. He trudged on through wood and field till 
the increasing light warned him of the wisdom of 
seeking a hiding-place for the day. He was passing 
through a wide stretch of native forest, just before 
sunrise, when he came to a narrow stream which 
fiowed between very high and very steep banks, which 
were covered with tall trees and a thick growth of 
bushes and shrubs. Carefully picking his way down 
the steep bank to the margin of the stream, he found 
it so shut in by overhanging branches of the trees, and 
by brush and shrub, that he felt sure this would be a 
safe retreat for him till nightfall. Through the kind- 
ness of his African friend, Jim, he had a lunch of corn- 
dodger and cold ham, and water being abundant and 
near at hand, he was in no immediate danger of perish- 
ing of hunger or thirst. Spending the long hours of the 
day in this safe, though lonely, retreat he returned to 
the public highway soon after dark, and at midnight 
reaching the Federal lines in safety, surrendered to his 
old friend Lindley. Private Lindley turned his prison- 
er over to the relief officer, who, being none other than 
Captain Rosser, was greatly rejoiced at his return. 


CHAPTER XI. 

r 

A PRISONER AMONG HIS FRIENDS THE ENEMY. 

The year 1862 was drawing to a close. It had been 
filled with thrilling incidents and fearful scenes. Cap- 
tain Rosser had become a colonel, and Lieutenant Bur- 
ton was now captain of Company A. A battle which 
had been imminent for days was on in terrible earnest. 
The Union forces had made a general assault upon the 
Confederate intrenchments, and after desperate fighting 
and heavy losses on both sides, had driven them from 
the field. The retreat of the Confederates was so precipi- 
tate that their wounded, as well as their dead, fell into 
the hands of the victors. The dead were given burial 
and the wounded cared for in field hospitals. On the 
day after this victory, Surgeon B. of the th Indi- 

ana, called at Captain Burton’s tent and said to him : 

‘‘I beg your pardon. Captain, but did you not tell me 
that when you were wounded and captured a year ago, 
that you were kindly cared for by a Mr. Janney and his 
daughter? ” 

“Yes; what of them?” 

“Oh, I don’t know anything about them, save what 
you told me, but among the wounded prisoners cap- 
tured yesterday there is a young oflficer, a captain, 
who says his name is Janney, and I thought it possible 
that he might be a relation of your friends.” 

“I will go at once and see this Captain Janney, if 
you will be so good as to direct me where to find him.” 

“I will accompany you.” 

“Thank you, Doctor, you are very kind. But I will 
ask you not to introduce me, but let me manage that 
matter myself.” 

“All right; you will find him on the tenth cot, left 
side of the central passage.” 

66 




A PRISONER AMONG HIS FRIENDS THE ENEMY. 67 

Captain Burton approached the wounded prisoner 
and asked, ‘‘ Is your name Janney 

“Yes, sir ; that is my name.” 

“ Alfred R. Janney ? ” 

“Yes ; that is my full name.” 

“Your father’s name is James, and your only sister 
bears the beautiful name of Esther?” 

“You are right, but I am curious to learn how you 
happen to know so much about my family ? ” 

“ Your curiosity, my dear friend, is not only natural, 
but proper, and shall be gratified at once. But permit 
me first to introduce myself. My name is Burton, for- 
merly lieutenant, but now captain of Company A, 
th Indiana Volunteer Infantry.” 

A smile lit up the prisoner’s face as he extended his 
hand toward Captain Burton, and said : “I understand 
it all ; your name has been familiar to me for almost a 
year. I am glad to meet you, though I do so as a 
prisoner.” 

Grasping the offered hand Lieutenant Burton said : 
“My dear friend, I cannot express the mingled emo- 
tions of pleasure and pain caused by this meeting. 
Pleasure at meeting you and pain at finding you a 
prisoner and suffering from a serious wound. I beg to 
assure you, however, that you shall have the best pos- 
sible care, and that your condition shall be rendered as 
pleasant as is possible under the circumstances. But 
I must not tax your strength further now. When you 
are better we will talk of your father and sister, and of 
their great kindness to me ; in the meantime I will call 
to see you as often as your physician may think it 
prudent for me to do so. And now adieu for the 
present.” And without waiting for any expression of 
thanks from his new friend Captain Burton left the 
hospital. He bent his steps toward the doctor’s tent, 
and finding him at home and at leisure, he told him 
that the wounded Confederate officer was indeed found 
to be the son of the man who had so generously enter- 
tained him when a wounded prisoner, and the brother 
of the charming girl who had not only nursed him back 
to life, but who had followed and rescued him from 
the perils of a Richmond prison. 


68 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTTIM. 

I anticipate all that you would say, Captain,” re- 
sponded the Doctor, ‘^and I promise you that your 
friend shall have the benefit of my utmost skill, and 
the best nursing possible.” 

A fortnight after the battle Captain Janney was 
able to leave the hospital and become the guest of his 
friend, Captain Burton. The General in command had 
offered him his freedom on the simple condition that 
he would give his word of honor as a soldier and a 
gentleman not to again take up arms against the 
United States. This he had politely declined. He 
was then given the freedom of the camp on his parole 
of honor not to attempt to leave it. 

Captain Janney had received from his sister Esther 
a detailed account of the escape of Lieutenant Burton, 
omitting of course all mention of her own and Jim 
Taylor’s connection with it; and Burton observing thi& 
omission, carefully avoided all reference to that part 
of the story. This story he detailed to Captain Burton. 

Sergeant Hill was furious on finding his prisoner 
gone, and when he discovered that he had escaped on 
his, the sergeant’s own horse, his rage knew no 
bounds. He decided that pursuit would prove a waste 
of time ; so, after breakfast, the party, including Es- 
ther Janney, proceeded on their journey toward Staun- 
ton. Esther had felt obliged to go forward for two 
reasons, one being that to turn back might give rise 
to the suspicion that it was interest in Lieutenant Bur- 
ton that had caused her to make this journey and not 
a desire to visit her brother. The other reason was 
that she had some hope of finding her brother in 
Staunton. This hope was realized, and the young 
Confederate soldier, though much surprised, was de- 
lighted to see his sister, and through her get direct 
news from home. He thought her story of Lieutenant 
Burton quite romantic and he indulged in the broth- 
erly privilege of teasing Esther about him. Acquaint- 
ance under such circumstances was very liable, he 
ivould say, ‘‘to ripen into love.” And “when this 
cruel war is over, I shall not be surprised if this hand- 
jome and gallant young Hoosier should make a raid on^ 
V'irginia on his own account and capture and carry off 


A PRISONER AMONG HIS FRIENDS THE ENEMY. 6& 

one of her fairest daughters in the person of my lovely 
sister.” 

To such badinage Esther would only answer, ‘‘You 
are as great a tease as ever. Even grim-visaged war 
has failed to cure you of that propensity.” 

After a two days’ visit with her brother, Esther set 
out for her return, armed with a pass from the Confed- 
erate commander of the post, and in due time reached 
her home, where she was received by her father with 
open arms. ’Squire Janney did not chide his truant 
daughter for her escapade, though he had suffered 
great anxiety on account of it. His love for her was 
an unselfish love, the love that is content with the 
happiness of its object. Instead of criticising Esther, 
he congratulated her upon her heroism and her success, 
on hearing the story of her adventures, which she 
frankly told to her father without reserve. 

Captain Janney remained nominally a prisoner of 
war, but really an honored guest of his captors, for 
other officers insisted on sharing with Captain Burton 
the pleasure of entertaining him. His imprisonment 
lasted ten weeks, when an exchange of prisoners en- 
abled him to rejoin his command. His opinion of 
Yankee soldiers had undergone considerable change. 
Henceforth he would find it impossible to share in 
or sympathize with the prejudices against Northern 
people, so common in the South at that period. 


CHAPTER XII. 

ADVENTURES OP A CONTRABAND. 

Who goes thar ? No answer. ‘‘Who goes thar, 
I say ! ” 

This second challenge was sharp and had a threaten- 
ing tone to it, still no answer was returned. 

“ I’m rite down shore I seen a man just out thar a 
piece, and heerd the bresh crack under his feet. He 
must be a spyin’ round, so I rec’on I’d orto raise the 
alarm by shootin’ at the dern’d skunk.” 

Bang went the carbine of the Confederate picket, 
and the charge cut through the bushes very near the 
figure of a man, who since the first challenge rang out 
on the midnight air had scarce dared to breathe, much 
less stir from his hiding-place. 

“Golley, dat wus de closest call dis chile eber got 
afore. I rec’on I’d better be a trabelin’ afore he gits 
dat ole musket loded up ag’in.” 

With almost the fleetness of a fox, who hears the 
shout of the hunters and the yelp of the hounds, the 
frightened contraband sped away in the direction 
whence he had come. He had put quite a distance 
between himself and the Confederate camp before any 
force could be organized to pursue him. But less than 
two hours had passed since the alarm was given and 
his flight begun when to his dismay the trembling and 
panting fugitive heard the sound of galloping horse- 
men in his rear. To attempt to escape arrest by pro- 
ceeding straight forward would be folly, so he started 
with renewed speed at right angles to his former 
course. This ruse proved successful for the time. The 
pursuing squad of cavalry swept by like a tornado, and 
the sounds of hoofbeats died away in the distance, and 
the hunted man resolved to seek a hiding-place and 

70 


ADVENTURES OF A CONTRABAND. 


7] 


take a much-needed rest. After spending a half houi 
or more in a vain search for a hollow tree in which he 
could ensconce himself, he was obliged to conceal his 
form as well as be could amid the branches of a fallen 
tree. His hiding-place was a fairly good one, and 
after a devout prayer for Heavenly protection, he fell 
asleep, and dreamed of freedom and safety and plenty. 
He was among friends. Old friends and new were 
congratulating him on his escape from bondage. A 
dinner fit for a king was set before him, combined 
odors of roast pork, sweet potatoes and corn pone 
greeted his olfactories, and caused the saliva to flow 
quite freely from the numerous glands whose business 
it is to secrete that important fluid. In other words, 
the smell of the victuals made his mouth water. He 
was just about ready to begin on that dinner when the 
entire scene changed. The dinner and all his friends 
vanished as by magic, and he found himself surround- 
ed by Confederate soldiers, who were asking in lan- 
guage the reverse of respectful what he was doing 
there, where he belonged, what his name was, etc. 

For a moment he was dazed by the sudden change 
in his environment. The vision faded quickly away, 
however, and the real facts of his situation fell into 
line in his mind rapidly. He needed all his wits now, 
for the questions being fired at him must be answered. 
Kising slowly to a sitting posture, he rubbed his eyes 
for a moment, and then stood upon his feet and looked 
about him. 

Well, are you wide awake enough to give some ac- 
count of yourself?’’ demanded the leader of the party. 

“Yes, Massa Cap’in, I’se a tryin’ to git to my 
young Massy Jim, who’s in de ’Fedrit army along wid 
dat good man, Gin’l Jackson.” 

“ Have you got a pass?” 

“No, Massa Cap’in, I haint got no pass, kase I’se 
sorter runnin’ away, and dat’s why I’s takin’ ter de 
woods.” 

“Oh, you’re running away, are ye?” 

“Yes, sah, I’se sorter runnin’ away, ’n’ I hopes ye 
won’t make me go back, kase I know Massa Jim needs 
me to take keer uv ’im and wait on ’im.” 


72 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


‘‘ How came you to run away 

‘‘Well, you see it war jis dis way. Ole mistis she 
mity oneasy ’bout young massa, kase he’s her only 
boy. So she kep’ a teasin’ ole massa to let me go ’n’ 
take keer uv ’im. But old massa he say, ‘Dat boy’s 
all rite. He don’t need no lookin’ arter nor waitin’ on, 
’n’ I need all my niggers to ’tend de crap.’ One day 
ole missus she call me inter de settin-room, and she 
say, ‘Jim,’ — dat my name, too — ‘Jim,’ she sez, ‘I 
wants you to slip off, sorter run away like, ’n’ go to 
whar yer young master is ’n’ stay ’n’ take keer uv ’im 
till de war’s over.’ 

“ Dat nite ole missus she giv’ me two dollars in 
money, which war de last cent she had, and lots o’ 
meat ’n’ bread, and I started off to try to find Massa 
Gin’l Jackson’s army, whar my young Massa Jim’s a 
cap’in. Ef yer’ll only help me ter git dar. I’ll be mity 
glad ’n’ thankful.” 

“Your story may be true but I doubt it, so I shall 
hold you as a prisoner till we get to General Jackson’s 
headquarters, and if you make the least attempt to 
leave us you will be shot down like a dog.” 

Jim had made up the best story he could, but he now 
saw that he was in a serious predicament. It was true 
that his former young master was with Stonewall Jack- 
son, but he would not dare to go to him with the 
story he had told his captors. He resolved, therefore, 
to escape at all hazard, before the Confederate lines 
were reached. 

Jim at first supposed this to be the party that had 
pursued him the night before, but in this he was mis- 
taken, as he discovered very soon. This was a small 
detachment of Mosby’s band of guerrillas. 

Jim Taylor’s captors rode at a brisk trot, which kept 
their prisoner on the run, as he had no horse. As a pre- 
caution against his attempting to escape the party rode 
in two sections with the negro between them. About 
seven o’clock in the evening the party came to a farm- 
house. The Captain asked for supper, which was pre- 
pared for the troop at once by two colored women un- 
der the direction of an old lady and her daughters, who 
were the only white persons visible. The old lady said 


ADVENTURES OF A CONTRABAND. 


73 


that her husband and two sons were with Stonewall 
Jackson. The hordes were tied to small trees in a 
wooded lot near the barn, and fed on the ground. After 
a hearty supper the Captain directed that one-half of 
the men find quarters in the barn and the others occu- 
py the sitting-room of the dwelling. Jim was sent to 
the barn. A single sentinel was posted in the lane 
where he could keep an eye on both house and barn, 
as well as on the approaches to them. These men had 
not gone into camp the night before, so they were 
quite fatigued and much in need of rest and of sleep. 
It was hut a few minutes, therefore, until the whole 
party save the sentinel and the prisoner were in the 
land of dreams. The sentinel was as tired and sleepy 
as any of his comrades, and as there seemed to be no 
immediate danger his vigilance relaxed as the hours 
slowly passed by and he sat down on the upping block, 
which stood just outside the front gate. He did not 
mean to fall asleep but the gentle god overcame him 
unconsciously. Jim had been hoping and watching for 
just this thing to happen, and when through a small 
opening in the front wall of the barn he saw the form 
of the sentinel relax, his head drop forward, and his 
arms fall by his side, he knew that he slept. The troop- 
ers who lay all about him were snoring as only very 
tired men, who fall asleep with their stomachs full, can 
snore. 

The moon was high in the heavens, and her beams 
filtering through the cracks in the walls of the barn 
enabled Jim to see the forms of the sleeping men. He 
quietly disarmed the whole party. Filling his pockets 
with revolvers and sticking a sabre in his waist-band, 
he hid the other weapons in a pile of corn fodder which 
lay in a corner of the barn. He then let himself out 
of the barn so quietly as not to disturb the slumbers of 
his captors. The fear that the sentry might be sleep- 
ing so lightly that the slightest noise would awaken 
him was now the chief danger which lay between Jim 
and a fair chance of escape. Once mounted on the 
Captain’s horse and out of sight, he felt confident of 
reaching the Federal lines in safety. Among the 
weapons he had taken from the sleeping men, there 


74 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


was a very slim and sharp two-edged dagger, or dirk ; 
with this he could almost certainly stab the sleeping 
sentry through the heart and thus kill him silently. He 
thought of this as the safest course for him to pursue ; 
but his heart triumphed over his head. He resolved to 
take the extra risk rather than bathe his hands in the 
life-blood of a fellow man in so cowardly a way. If 
pursued he would not hesitate to kill his pursuers if 
they pressed him closely. But to stab this man in the 
back and send him to his eternal account without a 
moment’s warning was both cruel and cowardly; so 
thought this untutored black man whom Virginia 
statutes pronounced a chattel, thus putting him legally 
in the catalogue with cattle, horses, hogs and other 
domestic animals; this man to whom success in his 
efforts to escape meant freedom, and failure meant 
death, or continued slavery. Having resolved upon 
the course to pursue, Jim swiftly but silently proceeded 
to the wood lot where the horses were. He was a hos- 
tler by trade, so he soon had the Captain’s charger, by 
far the fleetest and every way the best horse in the lot^ 
fully equipped for the road. Quietly cutting the halt- 
ers of the other horses, he mounted the one he had 
chosen and rode off down the lane as though on an 
ordinary errand. 

It was ten o’clock, and Mosby’s men slept on till 
twelve, when the second officer of the company and 
one of the privates emerged from the house and ap- 
proached the sleeping sentinel. The hour had struck 
at which he was to be relieved and a comrade go on 
duty. The officer shook the sleeping man roughly, 
after disarming him, and demanded an explanation of 
his conduct. The poor fellow could only say that, 
being very tired, he had thought to rest a little while, 
and that sleep must have come upon him uncon- 
sciously. 

“That is probably a true explanation of your con- 
duct, but a soldier on guard holds the interests of his 
country and the lives of his comrades in his keeping. 
He must, therefore, keep awake on penalty of death. 
You may consider yourself under arrest.” 

Marching his prisoner to the house, the officer awoke 


ADVENTURES OF A CONTRABAND. 


75 


the captain and explained the situation, so far as he 
understood it. The whole troop was at once awak- 
ened, and when those in the barn discovered that their 
weapons were gone, and that the negro was also miss- 
ing, excitement was at fever-heat, and consternation 
reached a climax on the report that the halters had 
been cut and most of the horses were gone. The 
doom of the sleeping sentinel was sealed, and so was 
Jim Taylor’s doom sealed if ever again he should fall 
into the hands of this squad of Mosby’s men. 

In the course of an hour six horses were found, 
brought in and hurriedly saddled. That the negro had 
taken the captain’s saddle was evident, and the pre- 
sumption was that he had also taken his horse. There 
being no means of knowing which direction the fugi- 
tive had taken, the captain ordered the second officer 
to take two men and go west in pursuit, or rather in 
search, of the negro, while he and the two others 
who had mounts took the opposite direction. This 
course was pursued because there was a Federal camp 
at about the same distance from that point, both east 
and west. 

There could be now no room for doubt tha^t Jim had 
misled them by a cunningly constructed story intended 
to deceive, and that the ‘‘black rascal” was at this 
moment making for the Federal lines at the best speed 
the captain’s blooded horse was capable of achieving. 

Perhaps since Sergeant Jasper tricked the old South 
Carolina Tory out of his favorite horse, Selim, there 
has not been seen anywhere a more furiously indignant 

man than Captain G when convinced that a nigger 

had completely outgeneraled him and got away on his 
favorite horse ; nor is it probable that even Colonel 
Tarleton’s profanity on that historic occasion was a 

whit more sulphurous than that of Captain G on 

this. 

Jim had taken the eastern end of the road, with the 

intention of reaching the lines of General W ’s 

command and claiming the protection of Lieutenant 
Burton. Had he known the geography of the country 
as thoroughly as his pursuers did he could, with the 
three hours’ start which he had, have distanced them 


76 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


and reached the goal he sought with ease. But miss- 
ing his way he lost all the time he had gained at the 
start, and more. • 

It was nearing the hour of noon. Jim had been in 
the saddle fourteen hours. The splendid horse he rode 
was showing signs of exhaustion. He kept up the old 
gait, a gallop, but it was now a slow gallop, and his 
heavy breathing warned his rider that he must soon 
slow down to a trot if not to a walking gait. Persons 
expecting pursuit naturally glance back over the way 
they have come quite frequently. Jim did as others do 
in this respect. It was lucky for him that he happened 
to turn in his saddle and glance back from the top of a 
eonsiderable hill, for just at that moment the heads of 
three horsemen came into view beyond the crest of a 
hill he had passed. He recognized the three men at 
once as Captain G and two of his troopers. Con- 

cealment was impossible and escape by running seemed 
equally hopeless. The case looked desperate, but Jim 
possessed not only courage but discretion. He resolved 
at once to abandon his horse, take to the woods on foot, 
and fight his pursuers Indian fashion. Fortunately for 
him he was well armed. He had no less than four re- 
volvers and a sabre, besides the dagger already refer- 
red to. 

On catching sight of Jim the pursuing troopers 
dashed their spurs into the fianks of their jaded steeds, 
and with a shout of joy at prospect of immediate and 
easy victory, they came galloping on. Now they reach 
the valley and begin the ascent of the hill, on the sum- 
mit of which the negro had been espied but a moment 
before. Now they have reached the very spot where 
they had seen him, but he had vanished. Horse and 
rider had disappeared as if by magic. One glance 
along the level stretch of road was enough to prove 
that the fugitive had taken to the woods. But which 
direction did he take ? That was the important ques- 
tion at that moment. This question was soon solved 
in a way wholly unexpected, yet in a perfectly natural 
manner. The horse Jim had abandoned, catching 
sight of his old companions, greeted them in horse 
fashion with a neigh of friendly recognition. The 


ADVENTURES OP A CONTRABAND. 


77 


troopers on hearing this signal rode directly toward 
the spot whence it came. They soon came upon the 
horse, but the rider was not visible. 

‘‘We must beat the brush and scour the woods till 
we find and capture or kill the d — d nigger,’’ said the 
Captain. 

This programme was entered upon at once. The 
party rode forward abreast, but some distance apart, 
so as to cover quite a range of territory. Jim was 
concealed from their view by the trunk of a tree less 
than one hundred paces from where the abandoned 
horse had been found, hence he had heard Captain 

G announce his purpose to capture or kill him. 

He resolved to fight to the death amd, the odds being 
against him, he thought it but fair to take advantage 
of his strategic position. With a Colt’s repeater on 
cock in his right hand, he waited until the Captain, 
who rode upon the extreme right of the column, came 
within range of his pistol, less than twenty paces from 
where he stood, when he fired. As the report of the 
pistol rang out on the air like a thunderboH from a 
clear sky, the Captain’s horse sprang forward as its 
rider with a sharp cry of pain fell backward out of the 
saddle to the earth. The two remaining troopers, 
catching a glimpse of the negro as he retired behind 
his tree, put spurs to their horses and charged upon 
him at full speed. When near the tree behind which 
they had seen him disappear they parted, one of them 
passing it on the right and the other on the left. The 
plan was to wheel and charge upon their single foe 
together, fire their pistols at him, and then use their 
sabres to finish him if necessary. Jim saw their ma- 
neuver and divined their plan. He saw that the man 
on the left was half a horse length in advance of his 
comrade, and he resolved to fire on him the moment he 
should pass the tree. The next moment w^as one of 
fearful suspense. The issues of life and death hung 
upon it. Jim kept as cool as he could ; his hand was 
not entirely steady, but steady enough for a good aim at 
short range. The decisive moment arrived. The fore- 
most trooper passed the tree at full speed, but the very 
instant that he passed a pistol ball had struck his right 


78 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

arm above the elbow and passed into his body. He 
fell to the ground, but the man who sent the leaden 
messenger did not wait to see him fall. The moment 
he fired upon him he faced about and prepared to give 
his remaining assailant a like reception. This time he 
missed his aim, and the brave and now infuriated 
trooper, wheeling about, charged upon him like an 
avenging demon, firing as he came. Jim returned his 
fire, bringing down his horse. He immediately dropped 
his pistol, and drawing his sabre, he charged upon the 
trooper with the hope of disabling him before he could 
extricate himself from the stirrups, etc., and gain his 
feet. In this he failed. As his horse went down the 
trooper drew his feet from the stirrups and sprang to 
the ground. Drawing his sabre he was ready to meet 
his sable foe on equal terms in a duel to the death. 

The two men rushed at each other like infuriated 
savages. The cavalryman had acquired some skill in 
the use of the sabre, while the contraband had never 
had any practice with that weapon. The latter was 
much stronger and more active than the former, how- 
ever, so the match was not an unequal one. The negro 
struck with all his strength ^overhand blows with the 
purpose of cleaving the skulT or trunk of his foe. Get- 
ting the first stroke, and following that with others in 
rapid succession, he succeeded in forcing his opponent 
into an attitude of defense. The trooper found his 
skill and strength taxed to the utmost, and his time so 
fully occupied in warding off the blows of his enemy 
that he had no opportunity to use his skill in cutting 
or thrusting. It soon became evident, indeed, that rela- 
tive endurance would decide the combat. When this 
conviction was forced upon the white man his heart 
sank within him ; still he continued to defend himself 
with all his might. Jim understood the situation. He 
knew that if he relaxed his efforts the least bit, for a 
moment, his foe would thrust his sabre through him. 
The duel raged thus for perhaps five minutes. It 
seemed an hour to the principals, and also to the two 
wounded men, who regarded their own fate as involved 
in that of their comrade. It could not last much longer. 
Human endurance has its limit. The negro seems to 


ADVENTURES OF A CONTRABAND. 


79 


he an exception to that rule, however, for his sabre 
strokes seem to fall faster and with greater force as 
the minutes pass. The white combatant begins to 
show signs of exhaustion. Now he staggers like a 
drunken man. Now he sinks beneath a sabre stroke, 
the force of which he could only partly break. He is 
at the mercy of his victorious foe. Had that foe been 
a white man he would doubtless have begged for quar- 
ter. But a proud Virginian, descendant of the Cava- 
liers, beg his life of a sable son of Ham? Never ; death 
were preferable. 

To his surprise the contraband did not follow up his 
advantage ; but upon seeing this last one of his assail- 
ants powerless to harm him, he turned from him and 
mounting the horse from which the Captain had fallen, 
he galloped away. 

An hour’s ride brought him to the picket line of Gen- 
eral W ’s army. 

Being conducted to headquarters, he asked for Lieu- 
tenant Burton. 

“Hello, Captain, here’s a contraband inquiring for 
you,” sung out an orderly to an officer, who was at that 
moment in the act of passing within a dozen paces of 
the General’s tent. Burton responded to the call by 
coming forward, and as he approached, “the contra- 
band,” as the orderly had called him, greeted him with : 

“Massa Burton, does yer’ member Jim Taylor, de 
darkey dat helped yer giv’ de Confed’s de slip one 
night las’ winter?” 

“ Yes, indeed, I do. Do you know him?” 

“ Well, I orter no dat darkey, kase I’se slep’ wid ’im 
all my life.” 

“Why, Jim, is this really you?” 

“Yes, Massa Burton, dis is me, what’s lef uvme, but 
I’se bin put fru de cider mill, an de thrashin’ mashine, 
bof, dis las’ week. But der Confed’s dat put me fru 
hain’t got nufin’ ter brag uv. Fack is, da’s in a mity 
bad fix, an’ a needin’ help.” Jim explained the situa- 
tion briefiy and a relief party under command of Cap- 
tain Burton with Jim as guide started at once for the 
scene of confiict, where they found and brought into 
camp the wounded Confederates. 


80 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


The story of Jim Taylor’s exploits spread throughout 
the camp, and served to make him quite a hero. He 
asked for no reward or honors, but modestly tendered 
his services to Captain Burton as a servant, which 
were accepted. 

He remained in Captain Burton’s service until the 
time came when negroes were admitted to the rank and 
pay of soldiers, when he enlisted in a regiment made 
up of men of his own race, in which he performed 
faithful service till the end of the war. He then re- 
turned to his old home in West Virginia and hired out 
as hostler in a livery stable in the village of C . 


CHAPTER XIII. 

ESAU LINDLEY AT GETTYSBURG. 

Although the South had been the aggressor, by be- 
ginning hostilities, yet from the bombardment of Fort 
Sumpter in the spring of 1861 until the invasion of 
Pennsylvania in the summer of 1863, the Confederate 
forces had been unable to beat back the tide of battle 
from the South, and force the North to share with 
them the horrors and devastation of that terrible war. 
But after the battle of Chancellorsville, General Lee, 
in command of an immense army, boldly marched 
across Mason and Dixon’s line, and challenged the 
North on her own soil. This movement was a surprise 
to the Federal forces, but under the command of Gen- 
eral Meade they met the Southern invaders at Gettys- 
burg, and after three days of desperate fighting victory 
perched upon the Union standard, and Lee and his 
army were driven back to Dixie. 

The Union forces were much inferior in numbers on 
the first day of the battle — July 1st, and the Confeder- 
ates were victorious at the close of that day. But not 
being fully informed as to the number or position of 
the foe with which they were contending they did not 
follow up their advantage by making a general assault 
in the early evening. This was in their plan, but the 
programme was changed and the golden opportunity 
lost. The heroic action of the hero of this story was 
the cause of the change of programme that turned the 
tide of battle on that historic occasion. Surviving 
members of the Second Brigade, First Division, First 
Corps, will readily recall the fact that they occupied a 
position on Culp’s Hill on the evening of July 1st. 
They will remember that the force on Culp’s Hill was 
rather small that night, and that the — th Indiana was 
deployed to the south along the base of the hill. They 

81 


82 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

will recall the fact, also, that General Ewell with Stone- 
wall Jackson’s old corps confronted them. 

The report of General Ewell reveals the fact that he 
had intended to attack the Union forces on Culp’s Hill 
before midnight on July 1st, but changed his plan on 
hearing from his scouts that the force was much great- 
er than he had believed it to be. The secret of this 
change is found in the following incident, which the 
author gives on the authority of an officer who was an 
eye-witness to it : 

As a preliminary to an assault on the Federal lines. 
General Ewell threw a division of troops across Eock 
Creek, a small stream which runs along the eastern 
base of Culp’s Hill. A small detachment of this divis- 
ion was thrown forward to feel our lines. An officer 
and a small squad of men belonging to this detach- 
ment got quite in advance of their comrades. As they 
advanced three Union pickets dodged behind trees till 
the Confederates got opposite them, when one of these 
pickets rushed from his ambush, and throwing his 
arms around the Confederate officer held him firmly 
and took him prisoner. Seeing the action of their com- 
rade, the others fired at the foe, and then sprang for- 
ward and commanded them to surrender, which they 
did at once. Other Federal troops on hearing the 
firing rushed to the scene and delivered a volley at the 
Confederates, who, supposing that they had encoun- 
tered a large force, of whose existence they had not 
had a suspicion till then, fled precipitately, nor stopped 
till they reached General Ewell’s headquarters. Hear- 
ing the report of the repulse of his advance caused 
General Ewell to forego making an attack which would 
almost surely have been successful if made before mid- 
night on that memorable 1st of July. Thus the Union 
army was saved from defeat that night, and probably 
from final disaster, by the prompt and heroic action of 
one man. But for this act of heroism the history of 
the great civil war between the North and South might 
have contained a record of victory for Lee, instead of 
for Meade, at Gettysburg, and of the triumphal march 
of Lee’s army through the Lebanon Valley to Beading 
and Philadelphia, and thence to New York, 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE MORTGAGE MATURES. 

The year 1864 was a memorable period in our coun- 
try’s history. For three years the bloodiest and most 
costly war of history had raged with unabated and 
ever increasing fury. It was now apparent to all that 
peace could be restored to the land only through the 
absolute exhaustion of one or the other section in con- 
flict arrayed. This might require years yet. The South- 
rons believed that they would yet be victorious and 
many in the North shared that belief. Volunteering 
had almost ceased and the draft was resorted to as a 
means of filling up the depleted armies of both the sec- 
tions. Gold and silver coin reached the enormous pre- 
mium of $2.85 over greenbacks, National bank notes and 
Government bonds. It was in this notable year that 
Wm. H. English and John C. New established the First 
National Bank of Indianapolis, Indiana, with a capital 
of half a million. This capital consisted of United States 
bonds worth less than forty cents to the dollar in coin. 
By depositing those bonds in the United States Treasu- 
ry, they got four hundred and fifty thousand dollars in 
currency printed by the Government, and backed by 
the power and credit of the Government. The Govern- 
ment lent them money without interest, for the two per 
cent charged them was to pay the cost of engraving 
and printing the bills, and was so stated. 

They loaned this money to their neighbors at one per 
cent a month, compounded every sixty days, which is 
over fifteen per cent, or $67,500 a year. They drew 
six per cent, or $30,000 a year, in coin on these bonds 
deposited as security for this money. The law allowed 
them to draw this interest yearly in advance, which 
they probably did, and if so, it was worth about $85,000. 
Add this to the $67,500 interest on their bank notes and 

83 


84 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

the sum total of their yearly profits was $152,500 on a 
capital of $200,000 in coin or $500,000 in currency. 

In 1877 Mr. English told the stockholders of that 
bank in his report as president of it, that every dollar 
of the original capital of $500,000 had been returned to 
the stockholders, that it had paid yearly dividends of 
161 per cent on the entire capital, and that it then had 
a paid-up capital of $1,000,000 which had not cost them 
a cent. 

This is a fair sample of the profits of National banks 
established in 1864. 

It was July, 1864, when the note for $1,000, payable 
in gold or silver, which Esau Lindley had given his 
brother Jacob for his interest in the old homestead, fell 
due. Esau got a furlough for fifteen days and returned 
home for the purpose of getting an extension of the 
time of payment by giving a new note and mortgage. 
He had paid in interest a sum equal to the face of the 
note, but the debt was as large as at first, aye, it was 
almost three times as large as at first ; for when in 
1854 Esau gave his note to Jacob there was no premium 
on gold or silver money over good paper money. But 
when it fell due a gold or silver dollar could not be 
bought in this country for less than two dollars and 
seventy-five cents in greenbacks or bank notes, the 
only kind of money in circulation at that time. It 
would therefore take two thousand seven hundred and 
fifty dollars to pay the note for one thousand which 
Jacob held against his brother. But would he, like 
Shylock, insist upon the fulfillment of the bond ? 

When Esau Lindley enlisted as a soldier the Govern- 
ment pledged its faith to pay him in coin or its equiva- 
lent for his services. His pay was very small and it 
would seem that this pledge should have been kept ; 
but it was not. The $16 a month he was getting was 
worth at that time only about $6 in coin. 

Esau Lindley reached his home on a Sunday after- 
noon, and on the next morning he went to town to see 
his brother about the mortgage. The brothers clasped 
hands as they met and mutual inquiries as to the 
health, etc., were exchanged. Other friends pressed 
the hand of the veteran defender of the Union, and 


THE MORTGAGE MATURES. 


85 


asked after the welfare of other veterans from that 
vicinity whom he had left at the front. 

These greetings over, the brothers retired to the 
counting-room for a private talk. 

‘‘Well, Jacob, I suppose you know that I am not 
able to pay you the thousand dollars I owe you. But 
as you are not in special need of the money, I hope you 
will be willing to give me another chance by renewing 
the note and mortgage.” 

Jacob had listened to his brother with half-averted 
face, and his reply struck a chill to the heart of Esau : 
“You seem to know all about my affairs and to sup- 
pose that I know all about your business, though you’ve 
been away three years. But you are mistaken, badly 
mistaken, for I supposed that you had made arrange- 
ments to pay that note, and I have made arrangements 
to use the money, so I need it, and must have it.” 

“ Brother Jake, you don’t mean that. Surely you 
know how small my pay is, and that it has been just 
as much as I could do to pay the interest on that note, 
especially since the money in which I am paid has sunk 
so far below coin, and I had to make up the difference. 
And now if I could pay you the note it would take 
nearly three thousand dollars to pay it, instead of one 
thousand, so I don’t suppose that I could borrow that 
amount of money on the farm of anybody else.” 

“No, nor you won’t know till you try,” was the en- 
couraging reply of Jacob. “And I tell you again and 
plainly that I need that money and shall expect you to 
pay it at once.” 

“But suppose that I can’t get the money to pay it 
with, you will renew the note, won’t you? You don’t 
answer me. Surely you could not turn your only 
brother and his family out of house and home?” 

“There is no sentiment in business. You owe me 
$1,000, for which I have waited ten long years. I 
can’t wait any longer. I need the money and must 
have it, so there is no use in any more talk on the sub- 
ject.” 

The brothers arose, and Jacob started toward the 
door, when Esau laid a hand upon his shoulder to 


86 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

detain him, and immediately placing himself in front 
of him and looking him in the face, he said : 

Truly your name is Jacob, and you are worthy of 
that name, for like Jacob of old you have plotted to 
rob your older brother of his birthright,” and without 
a word more, Esau Lindley strode from his brother’s 
store. The thoughts that crowded his brain were mad- 
dening thoughts. He saw in Jacob’s words the de- 
nouement of a plot concocted ten years before to rob 
him of his interest in their joint inheritance, and broth- 
erly love gave place to contempt and hate, and as he 
pictured his wife and children homeless, thoughts of 
vengeance would force themselves upon him. At such 
times he would remember the words of Scripture : 
“Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord,” 
and this assurance that God would avenge his wrong 
comforted him, and helped to save him from the im- 
pulse to avenge himself. 

Before reaching home he had resolved not to give up 
hope, but to try to find some one who could and would 
lend him the money to pay the note due his brother 
and take a mortgage on the farm as security. He 
spent his days in the vain search for such a financial 
good Samaritan and his nights in troublous dreams, 
or despairing thoughts, till his leave of absence from 
his regiment expired. The men to whom he appealed 
generally gave him some ground for hope by saying : 

“ I am very sorry for you, and I should be very glad 
to help you in this case, and I will if I can. I’ve not 
got the money now, so I can’t promise you anything. 
But if I can call in some loans that I have out I will 
help you.” 

These conditional promises, made by some in good 
faith, but by others simply to get rid of the disagree- 
able task of refusing to help him, kept Esau from de- 
spair till the time came that he must return to the 
front. Then reason tottered on her throne, and when 
he tore himself from the wild embrace of his wife and 
children, and rushed for the train, Esau Lindley was 
an insane man. 

In those days military law was rigidly enforced, and 
its penalties infiicted with cruel certainty. His fur- 


THE MORTGAGE MATURES. 


87 


lough having expired by limitation Esau was in law a 
deserter, and the penalty for the crime of desertion 
was death. With the hope of protecting his family 
and himself against a fate worse than death, he had 
lingered till he had incurred the fame and fate of a de- 
serter. He did not, however, have much fear of this 
charge being brought against him, for he felt sure that 
he could satisfactorily explain his delay. But he was 
doomed to a sad disappointment ; an order for his arrest 
was issued before he left home. While on his way 
back to his regiment, he was met by an assistant U. S. 
Marshal, who in a most insulting manner ordered him 
to hand over his revolver and consider himself under 
arrest for desertion. For a moment Esau was stunned, 
almost paralyzed, by this new calamity. Then the in- 
sult, the indignity, the injustice of the charge and the 
brutal manner of the man who made it, were more 
than he could endure. A fit of emotional insanity 
seized him, and instead of handing his pistol to the 
officer he thrust its muzzle into his face and sent a ball 
into his brain. Immediately realizing his bloody act, 
he threw the weapon from him and burst into a fit of 
weeping, and as the tears gushed from his eyes great 
sobs shook his manly frame. 

‘‘Oh, God,’’ he cried, “has it come to this, I am not 
only homeless, but a murderer.” 

Sympathetic tears moistened many an eye, for the 
tragedy had been enacted in a railway station crowded 
with men and women. No one seemed disposed to as- 
sume the responsibility of taking Esau into custody, 
until his fit of emotion having subsided he said : “I am 
ready to surrender myself to the officers of the law and 
suffer the penalty of my act.” 

At this a gentleman said to him : “You did just as I 
would have done, if I had been in your place, but of 
course you must go through the form of a trial ; so if 
you will go with me I will take you to the sheriff of 
this county, who will take you into custody.” 

Esau thanked this stranger for his kind words, and 
accepting his escort the two left the station followed 
by quite a number of other men. 

On hearing his story the sheriff assigned Esau to a 


88 


ESAU; OE, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


cell in the county prison, where he remained until by 
order of the military authorities he was carried back to 
the army to which he belonged and from which he was 
charged with having deserted. The charge was clear- 
ly established before the court-martial, and the sen- 
tence of death pronounced upon him was carried into 
execution so promptly as to give his friends no oppor- 
tunity to appeal in his behalf to the President. 

The charge of murder was not brought against Esau 
nor the charge of resisting arrest, but the fact that he 
did resist arrest, and kill the officer sent to arrest him, 
doubtless served to prejudice the court against him. 
Yet the fact of history is that this honest, brave, pa- 
triotic citizen-soldier was shot like a dog and his body 
consigned to a dishonored grave, for staying at home 
a few days beyond the limit of his furlough with no 
evil intent, but with the desperate hope of being able 
to rescue his home from the grasp of his Shylock 
brother ; a hope which failed him in the end, because, 
while he had been at the front facing the perils of war 
to save the Union, the bankers had got the Government 
for whose existence he had risked his life, to pass laws 
which enabled his brother to demand of him two thou- 
sand seven hundred and fifty dollars in payment of his 
note of one thousand dollars. 

Comment would be superfluous; the bald facts are 
enough to bring a blush of shame to the cheek of every 
honest citizen. 

Esau Lindley fell a victim to a financial conspiracy 
more far reaching and damnable than any that has 
cursed a civilized or barbarous nation since the eight- 
een hundred usurer's of Rome strangled Liberty and 
became masters of that great empire. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

THE FATE OF ESAU. 

Walter Burton’s friendship for Esau Bindley was 
of the kind that never wavers, but is true and stead- 
fast in misfortune as in prosperity, hence Walter stood 
by Esau to the last. He did all in his power to save 
him from death, and he comforted him by assurances 
of his unbounded faith in his innocence of intended 
wrong, and his faithful purpose to defend his name 
and fame against any false impressions that might 
arise from the unfortunate circumstances surrounding 
his case. He was true to his promise in this regard, as 
the following letter clearly shows . 

“Headquarters Army of the Potomac, 
“August 25, 1864. 

“Mrs. Clara Bindley, B , Ind. 

“ Dear Madam and Friend : — The saddest, yet most 
sacred duty that ever devolved upon me, is that of 
giving you a detailed account of the last days on earth 
of my most worthy and well beloved but unfortunate 
friend, your dear and devoted husband. Xo, I with- 
draw that word. Seeming misfortune may, but real 
misfortune never can, touch the brave, the true, the 
good, the loyal-hearted. That God whom we rightly 
call ^Our Father’ permits many things that to our 
limited vision seemeth unjust and cruel; but whether 
it be a Socrates drinking poison, a Christ dying on the 
cross, or a Wickliffe burned at the stake, victims of 
ignorance and prejudice, the law of justice, brings 
ample compensation to the victim of man’s injustice. 
Your husband fell a victim to cruel circumstances and 
injustice. If intent alone constitutes crime, he was not a 
deserter nor a murderer. His Heavenly Father knows 
him innocent, and He will vindicate him, and the angels 

89 


90 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

of Heaven will comfort him. He died in the full assur- 
ance of this beautiful faith, hence he met his fate with 
true heroism — the courage that inspires the consciously 
innocent. He told me the whole story of his brother’s 
cruel act in refusing to renew the mortgage on his 
home, and of his vain efforts to find some neighbor 
who would help him out of his strait. Had the sum 
needed been but one thousand dollars, he could easily 
have obtained it. But the note being payable in gold, 
and gold not being in circulation as money at all, and 
only to be had of brokers at an enormous price, or 
premium, he could not get it. His failure preyed upon 
his mind till he was really insane. 

‘If I am convicted and executed,’ he said to me at 
the close of his story, ‘ I shall die a victim to that fatal 
mortgage and to the unjust law that caused gold and 
silver to go up to such a premium over the Govern- 
ment currency. I might with justice add, and to the 
avarice of my only brother.’ 

“ Without any wish to criticise the action of the 
Court in this case, I cannot in justice to my friend re- 
frain from saying that, in my opinion, the charge of 
desertion would have been dismissed after hearing 
his story, but for the unfortunate accident, so far 
as he was concerned, by which the United States Mar- 
shal lost his life. His connection with that tragedy 
was the real cause of his conviction, though he was not 
on trial for murder. Had time been given to make an 
appeal to President Lincoln, I feel sure that he could 
have been saved. But censure and regrets are alike 
unavailing, and naught remains to us but to cherish 
the memory and emulate the virtues of this sterling pa- 
triot, brave soldier, true friend, faithful and affection- 
ate husband and loving father. 

“Yes, there is another duty resting upon me, the 
duty of lifting that mortgage on your home out of the 
hands of an unnatural brother, and placing it where 
you can pay it off at your leisure after this terrible war 
is over. I promised my friend to see that this was done, 
and I will sacredly keep my promise. 

“ With heartfelt sympathy and profound respect, I 
am Your sincere friend, Walter Burton.” 


THE FATE OF ESAU. 


91 


Mrs. Lindley was greatly comforted by this letter, 
although the newspapers in their reports of her hus- 
band’s case had dealt kindly with him, and his neigh- 
bors had given her their hearty sympathy and assured 
her that they did not believe him guilty of any intent 
of wrong ; yet she had longed for a history of the 
tragedy from this friend who had been with her un- 
fortunate husband in his trials, and who had comforted 
him in his last hour. She felt that now she could take 
up the burden of life again and do her duty by her 
husband’s children to tlie best of her ability. The ter- 
rible mortgage which had cost her husband his life 
would probably deprive her and her children of a home ; 
but if even that misfortune should overtake her, she 
would not despair. She resolved, come what would, 
never to ask Jacob Lindley for help, or even for an ex- 
tension of the time on the mortgage note. If he could 
be so selfishly cruel as to rob his dead brother’s family 
of their home, with a full knowledge of all the facts of 
the sad case, no appeal of hers, should she humble her- 
self before him, would soften his heart or change his 
purpose. 

Jacob Lindley was shocked by the news of his broth- 
er’s fate, but he did not refiect upon himself in the mat- 
ter. He had simply acted as any sensible business man 
would have acted. His note called for gold or silver 
coin, and if gold and silver was at a premium over 
paper money that paper money was at a discount, and 
he could not be expected to lose the discount. It was 
to provide against just this sort of thing that he had 
insisted upon a note payable in gold and silver. Jacob’s 
logic, though apparently sound, is really very unsound. 
When Esau executed the note and mortgage, coin was 
the only legal-tender money of the United States; and 
it was to provide against the fiuctuations of currency 
issued by private and State banks that the payment 
was to be made in gold and silver, and not against the 
lawful legal-tender money of the Nation, which Presi- 
dent Francis A. Walker, a standard authority on money, 
says, never was nor could be at a discount, for the 
reason that it was the only legal-tender money in cir- 
culation from 1862 to 1878. Gold and silver not being 


92 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


money at all,” he says, ‘‘but commodities, during those 
sixteen years.” 

Jacob Lindley justified his course by the same logic 
that had been and still is used by the business man of 
every community, in relation to the money question not 
only, but in relation to business ethics in general. He 
held to the doctrine that a business man is justified in 
taking any advantage that the law gives him, and in 
this he was not peculiar. He who would decline to 
take what the law would give him would be pronounced 
eccentric, or called a crank. 

Jacob’s course was peculiar in this only, that he held 
his brother to a strict fulfillment of his bond. Had 
Esau been a stranger, Jacob’s insistence that the note 
be paid in gold or silver, or their equivalent in cur- 
rency, would have subjected him to no criticism. Yet 
is not humanity a brotherhood, and are not all men 
brothers ? 


CHAPTER XVI. 

LINDLEY VS. LINDLEY. 

The mail pouch in which his letter to Mrs. Lindley 
was carried contained another letter from Colonel Bur- 
ton, for our friend now wore the silver eagle, and wore 
it worthily, as he had won it fairly. This other letter 
was to his father, a substantial farmer, and the main 
purport of it was a request that he would see that the 
widow and orphans of Esau Lindley were not robbed 
of the home he had lost his life in trying to save to them. 

Mr. Burton’s sympathies were thoroughly aroused in 
favor of Mrs. Lindley, and he entered heartily into his 
son’s wish to serve her. He was not a lawyer by pro- 
fession, but he had a general knowledge of the princi- 
ples of law, and had filled the office of justice of the 
peace with signal ability for many years. The sugges- 
tion came to him that, according to the law in the case, 
Jacob Lindley could be compelled to accept United 
States currency at par in payment of the note he held 
against his brother’s estate, notwithstanding the fact 
that it called for gold or silver on its face. The law 
under which the greenback currency was issued ex- 
pressly stated that it should be a full legal tender for 
all purposes, public and private, except the payment of 
import duties and interest on the public debt. The two 
only exceptions being specifically named, there could 
not be any others. He consulted an eminent lawyer on 
the question and he concurred in the view held by 
’Squire Burton. He therefore advised Mrs. Lindley to 
tender a thousand dollars in greenbacks in full payment 
of the note, to make the tender in the presence of three 
witnesses, and in case Jacob should refuse to accept 
the tendered currency, let him sue on the note, and 
then make the tender in open court, and rest the case. 
’Squire Burton furnished the currency, and with two 

93 


94 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


other gentlemen accompanied the widow to the count- 
ing-room of her brother-in-law. Jacob received the 
party politely, and awaited the announcement of the 
object of the call. He did not have long to wait. 

‘‘Jacob,” said Mrs. Lindley, “ my husband owed you 
a thousand dollars. He could have paid that sum, but 
you demanded nearly three times that amount. The 
effort to get it for you drove him mad and cost him his 
life. I now tender you one thousand dollars in lawful 
money in payment of that note.” As she said this she 
took from her pocket a roll of United States Treasury 
notes and held them toward him. 

“The note calls for gold or silver and I can’t accept 
anything else,” he said. 

“Will you let me see the note referred to ? ” said Mr. 
Burton. 

“ Certainly,” and Jacob opened his safe and took 
from a drawer a package of papers, from which he 
selected one which he unfolded and held so that Mr. 
Burton could read its contents. 

“ ‘I promise to pay one thousand dollars in gold' or 
silver’ is the way it reads,” said Mr. Burton; “it does 
not say in gold or silver coin, but simply gold or silver. 
One thousand dollars’ worth of gold or silver coin or 
bullion would pay that note. So you had just as well 
take the face of the note in greenbacks as to put Mrs. 
Lindley to the trouble of buying a thousand dollars’ 
worth of gold or silver, which you would have to sell 
again, for those metals are not money now, but com- 
modities, like iron and lead. The United States Treas- 
ury note is the only legal-tender money circulating in 
the United States at present, and those notes are, by 
express provision of the United States Statutes, lawful 
money and a legal tender in payment of ail debts, pub- 
lic and private, within the United States, except duties 
on imports and interest on the public debt. So reads 
the law. It is so plain there can be no doubt but that 
any intelligent court would hold that the tender of the 
amount of the face of that note in greenbacks is legal 
tender, and that if you refuse to accept that sum you 
are not entitled to anything. This is not only my opin- 
ion, but it is the opinion of one of the most eminent law- 


LINDLEY VS. LINDLEY. 95 

yers in this State, given to me after a statement of this 
case.” 

Jacob Lindley became alternately red with anger and 
pale with fright. He saw the force of Mr. Burton’s 
logic, yet he hoped that there might be a defect in it 
which an astute lawyer could find ; so he resolved to 
ask for time to consider the matter. 

‘‘ I don’t believe that it is law, and I know it is not 
justice, that I should be compelled to take depreciated 
paper currency at par in payment of a note which calls 
for gold or silver.” Thus delivering his opinion, Jacob 
Lindley arose and bowed his visitors out of his office. 

Mr. Burton was the last to pass out, and as he 
reached the door, he turned and said: ‘‘Mr. Lindley, 
I beg permission to answer your assertion that it would 
not be justice to compel you to take legal-tender cur- 
rency at par in payment of that note. Did not your 
unfortunate brother have to take that kind of money 
at par for his services as a soldier ? Is not every soldier 
in the Union army paid in that currency at par ? Do you 
not as a merchant take it at par for goods ? Do not the 
farmers take it at par for the products of their farms ? 
Does not the State receive it at par for taxes ? Is there 
a use to which money is put in which the greenback is 
not used at par except in paying tariff duties and interest 
on the National debt? By special act of Congress, im- 
port duties and interest on the National debt was made 
payable in gold or silver coin. These specific excep 
tions make it doubly clear that for all other purposes 
the greenback is a full legal tender at its face value.” 
Jacob made no reply and Mr. Burton passed out. 

Jacob took counsel with lawyer Skinner, who advised 
him to enter suit for foreclosure of the mortgage. He 
laughed at ’Squire Burton’s argument as nonsensical. 
He knew that Jacob Lindley was able to pay a fee, and 
a fee was the chief thing he saw in the case. 

The suit of Lindley vs. Lindley came up for trial at 
the November term of the court. The premium on 
coin had fallen since July from $2.75 to $2.60, so that 
Jacob Lindley did not expect to get a judgment for 
more than $2,600 on the note for $1,000 which he held 
against his brother’s estate. The two ablest attorneys 


ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


in the county tendered their services gratuitously to 
defend Mrs. Lindley. Their line of defense was the 
same as that presented by Mr. Burton in the conference 
with Jacob Lindley, already reported. The case on be- 
half of the plaintiff was ably presented by lawyer 
Skinner. But when the principal attorney for the de- 
fense, Judge Easton, finished his closing speech to the 
jury, there was but one opinion in the minds of the 
spectators as to the injustice of Jacob’s demand, or the 
verdict that the jury would find in the case. The jury 
retired at 3.30 P. M., and as the clock was on the stroke 
of 4, they filed into the court-room, and the foreman 
handed their verdict to the presiding Judge. The large 
audience had retained their seats, and when the clerk 
read the words, ‘‘We the jury find for the plaintiff in 
the sum of $1,000, lawful money of the United States,” 
a shout of applause went up that shook the old court- 
house to its foundations. Mrs. Lindley was warmly 
congratulated by everybody who could get near her, 
and when lawyer Skinner arose and gave notice that 
the case would be taken to a higher court, he was 
greeted by a storm of hisses, which continued and in- 
creased in volume as he and his client left the court- 
room. 

The sum of one thousand dollars necessary to satisfy 
the judgment and cancel the mortgage was subscribed 
at once by the audience who had heard the trial, 
’Squire Burton heading the list with one hundred dol- 
lars for himself and one hundred dollars for his son 
Walter. 

The gratitude of Mrs. Lindley was unbounded. She 
had been, by the tragic death of her husband and the 
avaricious conduct of his brother, plunged into the low- 
est depths of sorrow and despair, but the earnest sym- 
pathy of her neighbors and this generous aid had lifted 
her out of the slough of despond. 

To her special friend, ’Squire Burton, she expressed 
her sense of gratitude most freely, closing with : 
“Now, my dear friend, if I could be assured that my 
beloved husband is permitted to know of my good for- 
tune ; to know that his wife and children are secure in 


LINDLEY VS. LINDLEY. 


97 


the home he tried so hard to provide for us, I could ask 
for no other happiness.” 

Can you doubt that your husband does know all 
about it? I cannot. Why, to doubt that would be to 
doubt that God is love, and that there* is a life beyond 
this. Be comforted, my friend, by the words of St. 
Paul, who asks this affirmative question : ‘ Are they 

not all ministering spirits ? ’ ” 

Relieved of the interest-bearing debt, the Bindley 
homestead was capable of yielding an ample support to 
the bereaved family of our unfortunate hero, and enable 
the widow to raise her children in comfort and through 
the public schools give them a good education. 

The people of B and vicinity were so prejudiced 

against Jacob Bindley on account of his treatment of 
his brother and his family that by common consent 
they withdrew their trade from the store in which he 
was a partner. The ‘‘boycott” was so nearly unani- 
mous that Jacob found himself obliged to sell his inter- 
est in the store for what he could get, and remove to a 
place where the story of the fatal mortgage was un- 
known. There we leave him, hoping that his inherent 
selfishness may be subdued by the lesson he has had, 
and that more generous sentiments may in the future 
guide his conduct. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. 

‘‘Here’s a letter for you, Esther.” 

“ For me ? ” 

“Yes, for Miss Esther Janney, and it is postmarked 

B , Indiana. Ah ! now I have it. It is from that 

Yankee sweetheart of yours. Who knows but that we 
may have a veritable union of the blue and the gray.” 

Esther took her brother’s badinage in good part, for 
well she knew that he would offer no objection to such 
a union as he suggested should it come about. Open- 
ing her letter, she read : 

“ B , IND., Sept. 10, 1865. 

“Miss Esther Janney, C W , Va. 

“ My Very Dear Friend : — I am sure that you need 
no assurance from me that the exigencies of war alone 
have prevented me from acknowledging personally the 
deep and lasting obligations I am under to you for your 
unbounded kindness to me, years ago. Thank God, the 
cruel war is now a thing of the past, and we can not 
only be personal but political friends. You will agree 
to this, will you not ? And may I not hope that you 
will, by return of post, give me permission to visit you in 
your home, and make my personal acknowledgments 
to your father, as well as to yourself, for kind treat- 
ment years ago. 

“ With kindest regards to your father and brother, 
and earnestly hoping to hear from you at the earliest 
practicable moment, 

“ I remain your grateful friend, 

“Walter Burton.” 

Esther handed the letter to her father, and waited in 
silence for any comment he might see fit to make. On 

98 


THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. 


99 


finishing the perusal of the epistle the old gentleman 
handed it back to his daughter, saying as he did so : 
‘‘ That is a very courteous and in every way admirable 
letter, and I see no reason why you should not invite 
the author of it to visit you. You may, if you choose, 
add my invitation to yours.” 

‘‘Thank you, father; I had wanted to ask permis- 
sion to say to Colonel Burton that you would be glad 
to see him. And now, brother, I know you are dying 
to see my letter, so here it is,” and she handed the mis- 
sive to Colonel Janney, who, after getting its purport, 
said : 

“ Well, sis, 1 congratulate you most heartily on your 
conquest. Colonel Burton is one of the noblest men I 
ever met, and I should not object to him as a brother- 
in-law if he did wear the blue. In fact, I am not sure it 
won’t turn out for the best after all that the Union is 
preserved and the old flag of our fathers will again 
wave over the whole country. Be that as it may, we 
are to live together as one people, and the sooner we 
forgive and forget and fraternize the better for us all. 
So I shall be glad to see your grateful friend and gal- 
lant admirer. Colonel Burton.” 

Esther retired at once to her room and wrote a brief 
reply to Walter’s letter. Before doing so she read his 
letter again. She read what the pen had put on the 
paper, not only, but between the written lines she read 
words of tender passion, visible only to the eyes of her 
soul. Her heart was full of tender affection for her 
loyal lover, but she restrained herself, and wrote a re- 
ply which was in keeping with the proprieties. She 
felt sure that Walter would also read between the lines, 
and then in a few weeks at farthest he would be with 
her, and then no need to read between the lines ; for 
the love that had been ripening for four long years, 
finding the barriers burned away, would declare itself 
and claim its own. 

Walter received Esther’s reply in due time, and with 
very brief preparation he started for West Virginia. 
A brief note acknowledging receipt of Esther’s letter of 
invitation, and announcing his purpose to accept it and 
to start within a very few days, was mailed at once. 


100 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER, S VICTIM. 

It was a Saturday afternoon in the early autumn of 
1865, ’Squire Janney and his son Alfred were visiting 
the capital town of their county on business. Esther 
was at home, and alone, save for the presence of a 
colored man and woman, formerly slaves and now serv- 
ants of the family, a distinction without a difference, so 
far as they had been able to see. A carriage came up 
the road from the direction of the railway station and 
halted at the gate. 

This is, I believe, the home of ’Squire Janney?” 

It was a young gentleman who spoke, and the colored 
woman answered in the affirmative, but added the in- 
formation, “that ’Squire Janney was not at home.” 

“Is Miss Janney at home?” 

“Yes, sah, she’s in de orchard jes now, but ef yer’l 
come in de house, I kin go ’n tell her yer want to see 
her.” 

“ Thanks and Colonel Burton sprang from the car- 
riage and entered the house in which he had been so 
kindly nursed back to life four years before. 

Esther had seen him enter and she knew him, though 
he had changed much in personal appearance. He was 
stouter and his beard was much heavier. He had been 
but a youth of twenty-two when last she saw him ; he 
was now a man of twenty-six. 

Esther was glad that Walter had come at a time 
when her father and brother were absent. She felt that 
their meeting would be less embarrassing to her and 
also to him. But how would he meet her? Would he 
greet her with the politeness of a friend, or the ardor 
of a lover? This question had been in Esther’s mind 
for days. It was uppermost in her thoughts now. 

In the meantime Walter was asking himself the 
question. How shall I greet her? He had not decided 
that important question when the chief object of his 
thoughts and queen of his heart entered the room. He 
had not schooled himself, but had spent the time in 
walking up and down the room. He was near the door 
when Esther entered. 

“Esther, my dear friend,” and as he uttered these 
words, Walter clasped the extended hand of his sweet- 
heart, and folding his left arm about her form he 


THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. 


101 


greeted her with a kiss. “ Pardon me, my dear, if you 
think me too ardent in my greeting, but my heart 
would not be content with a formal hand-clasp.” 

Esther’s face was suffused with blushes, but with a 
smile, she replied : “I am sure you have committed no 
serious offense, so we will say no more about it. But I 
must order your baggage brought in ; ” and Esther went 
to the kitchen door and asked Cloe to call Jo from the 
orchard for that purpose. Returning to the parlor she 
was met by her visitor as she entered, who, taking both 
of her hands in his and looking into her blue eyes, he 
said : 

‘‘When I first awoke to consciousness in this house 
four years ago, I thought I was in Heaven, and a lovely 
angel with blue eyes was hovering over me to comfort 
me. That angelic face and those lovely eyes have 
haunted me ever since. Now I behold them again, 
after all these terrible years, and my vision is more 
than realized ; you are far more beautiful than I then 
thought you, or than T dreamed of finding you.” 

As he talked he led her slowly toward a sofa, and 
seating her upon it, he placed himself by her side. 
With her hands still imprisoned by his and his eyes 
looking into hers, he continued : 

“Dear Esther, I ask permission to say to you now 
what I was just on the point of saying when those 
soldiers terminated so abruptly our last private inter- 
view in this room. Silence is consent,” he said, as she 
turned her head and dropped her eyes to the floor. Re- 
leasing her left hand, he placed an arm about her slen- 
der form, and drawing her toward him, he whispered : 
“ I was then about to tell you that I loved you with my 
whole being. I cannot wait longer, but must tell you 
now that I love you as man loves but once, as woman 
is rarely loved.” 

Esther lifted her face toward her lover, and as the 
love-light glowed in her eyes and maidenly blushes 
crimsoned her cheeks, she put her arms about his neck 


102 ESAU; OR, THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 

and whispered: “Dear Walter, I am glad that you 
love me, for I have loved you all these years.” 

With a fervent “ God bless you, my darling, for those 
sweet words,” Walter pressed his lips to hers in a ling- 
ering kiss, and said : 

“The bliss of this hour compensates me for all the 
loneliness and anxiety of the long years since I was so 
abruptly torn from the friendly shelter of this hospi- 
table home, and the sweet companionship of the first 
and only girl I ever loved. Dearest one, we must never 
again be separated for even a single day while life is 
ours. When I return to my home I must take you with 
me as my bride, my wife, my life companion.” 

Esther made no reply, for at that moment the click 
of the gate-latch announced the approach of some one, 
and she arose and went to the front door just in time 
to meet her father and brother as they entered the 
room. Colonel Burton now also arose, and coming for- 
ward was greeted most cordially by both gentlemen. 

A fortnight later Walter and Esther were married 
and en route to their future home in the Hoosier State. 

At the station where they took the train they met 
Jim Taylor. This faithful colored man was delighted 
to see these friends, whom he had been able to serve, 
and they were equally pleased to see him. The train 
was two hours late, and when it came Jim was ready 
to take it and go home with Colonel Burton. 

The Colonel had very naturally asked Jim about his 
affairs, and learning that he was a hired man without 
family ties he offered to give him a situation on his 
farm. The offer was gladly accepted, and going at 
once to his quarters for his trunk he was ready to start 
for his new home when the train arrived. 

Walter was an only child ; therefore prospective heir 
to his father’s estate. 

His mother having passed to a higher life a year be- 
fore, his father had been very lonely since, and he had 
looked forward with pleasure to the time when Walter 
should bring home a wife, who would light up the old 
mansion with her presence, and prove a companion 


THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. 


103 


and a perennial blessing to them both. He was not 
disappointed in Esther. She filled his ideal of a model 
wife and daughter. 

Time has been very kind to our friends, the Burtons, 
during the years that have dropped into history since 
the war. The father still lingers by the old ingleside, 
and to his old friends he is wont to say that he lives in 
such an atmosphere of affection that even the frosts of 
age are powerless to harm him ; that he realizes the 
truth of Count Tolstoi’s philosophy, that Love is what 
we live by.” 


THE END. 



PRICE 35 CENTS. 


ESAU; 

OR, 

THE BANKER’S VICTIM. 


BY 

T. A. BLAND, 

Author of Farming As a Professions'^ Life of B. F, But/er," 
** Reign of Monopoly," *^How to Grow Rich," 

Etc., Etc. 


WASHINGTON, D. C .: 
Published by the Author. 

1892. 



HAVE YOU SEEN ♦ ♦ ♦ 

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Nation/il * EcoNonisT, 

OF WASHIMOTOM, D. C. 

The Official Organ of Nat. Farmers’ Alliance and Industrial Union 



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